The caged Lark
by totalphangirl
Summary: When Cosette is kidnapped and held hostage, Valjean does everything he can to save her. But are there times when Cosette must take matters into her own hands? is it true that what doesn't kill us makes us stronger? And will a newly found love give Cosette the hope and strength she needs to continue? Marius/Cosette, (Valjean and Cosette too!)
1. Chapter 1

**Hello again guys! Well this idea came to me whilst I was listening to Attack on Rue Plummet and watching the 2012 movie. Before you read I would like you to consider the following warnings:**

**There will be swearing! Probably lots of it because I swear a lot.**

**There will be themes of rape. Only themes though because I love Cosette ****_way _****too much to be ****_that_**** evil.**

**It will be pretty violent. I won't describe any violence in detail but let's just say none of the characters have it easy.**

**Toussaint doesn't exist here… I apologize.**

**And it's gonna be one of my longest fics (which isn't that long.) About 16 chapters so buckle up!**

**I also wanted to make Cosette's character more tough so she goes through some character developments in this story.**

**Enjoy!**

Cosette walked inside, closing the door gently behind her. Her father was away on one of his mysterious trips, and the girl felt lonely without him. She'd gone out for a walk in the hope that it would ease her aching emptiness and the deprivation of fatherly affection.

All of a sudden there was a creak from behind her. Cosette whipped around, her tension roused by the threat of sound. 'Hello?' she called, her pulse thundering in her ears. The house was still for a few more seconds, and eventually Cosette's anxious eyes settled back to removing her shawl. Another creak was heard, and Cosette let out a frightened gasp. 'Who's there?!' she squeaked, badly masking the concern in her voice. She took a careful step forwards into the hallway, turning her head to check there was no-one flattened against the wall.

The flickering, dawdling flame of fear danced in her stomach, turning her insides into knots. She put a hand to her uneasy tummy. 'Who's there?' she called again. With a pause she swallowed. 'Papa?'

Thundering footsteps sounded behind her. She whipped round in not enough time to witness a man charging towards her. He seized her around the middle, hauling her feet from the ground. She opened her mouth to scream, only to have his grubby hand press down on her lips. Cosette writhed desperately, bucking against him and trying to escape his vice-like grip. Her acts remained unbeneficial, as another man approached in front of her. His form had recently been bathed in shadow, and Cosette gave another scream as he stepped out into the light. The scream was muffled, only ringing in her throat.

Fear shot through her like ice-water, cold sweat forming on her brow and her pulse pounding in her ears and chest. The man stepped forwards, a smirk on his face. There was something familiar about him… but Cosette was too petrified to try and identify him. 'Montparnasse, c'mon, let's go,' he said in a low voice.

Cosette suddenly gave an almighty thrash, driving her leg backwards. Her foot kicked her captor hard in the groin, causing him to yelp and loosen his grip. It was only for a second, but it was all Cosette needed.

She propelled herself forwards with all her might, an intense, fiery adrenalin pumping through her. She was thrust from Montparnasse's near-limp arms, picking herself up and charging forwards away from the two men. '_Get her!' _One of them called, but Cosette was already darting out of the room with a speed she did not know she possessed. She let the instinctive adrenalin swamp her, invade her, direct her.

With her breath hot in her throat she charged at the door, slamming it open with the weight of her shoulder. Clatters sounded behind her as the two ran after her. They were getting closer.

Soon the red-hot paroxysm drained away as quickly as it had come, leaving Cosette's insides balled in knots and her breaths heavy and painful to take. Now panting, the girl hitched up her skirts, hoping that her pure, blind desperation would be enough to steer her out of this mess. '_HEY!' _

It was too late. The second of the two men… the older one… caught up with Cosette, grabbing at her waist and snapping her body backwards until her back collided with his chest. This man was notably stronger than the first. A scream lodged in Cosette's throat, although she didn't have the energy to disgorge it. All she could do was catch her breath, her eyes wide with fear and horror. Her arms were pinned tightly to her sides, the man who was holding her clamping a rough hand to her mouth again. 'Let's get her out of here,' he hissed. 'With any luck no-one'll notice she's gone.' Cosette let out a muffled sob, only to be sharply elbowed in the back. 'Montparnasse, get the carriage ready,' he murmured. With that he twisted Cosette's body in his hands, steering her away from the house. She strained her neck, looking back longingly. She just wanted somebody…_anybody…_to help her.

_Come on Cosette, think of something!_

Her mind was in a jumble, wave upon wave of confusing thoughts bled together, tousling and scattering into a messy web.

_What did your Papa tell you?_

Cosette tried to think back to what her father had told her about dangerous men and more importantly, how to fight them.

The smallest of blushes returned to her cheeks as she recalled the brief conversation, a large happening in her pale face.

_'If a man ever… erm…_tries _anything, kick him where it hurts.'_

Cosette's heart thumped in panic as the men steered her violently into the street. She longed for the feeling of firm cobblestones under her feet; being carried by this man brought back a sickly melt of emotions.

_Come on Cosette…_

Knowing she could not channel the force, Cosette gave an almost half-hearted attempt, jutting her ankle up behind her. Giving herself a quick and forceful wriggle she managed to snap herself out of the man's grip amazingly… but fell heavily from his arms.

With no time to scream her head collided with the ground, giving her jaw a brutal jarring and sending white-hot pain searing through her temple.

She did not experience it for long though.

Cosette was out cold.


	2. Chapter 2

Lights drifted, welding with the blurry ceiling and reeling in Cosette's mind.

The first thing she noticed was a strange force on her mouth. When she parted her lips the force acted against her. Frowning in confusion she attempted to lick her lips… but to her horror found there was a thin gauze pulled taunt over her mouth.

Cosette's eyes snapped fully open and she sat bolt-upright, her heart thumping so loudly she couldn't hear anything else. Her hands flew to her mouth and she felt a thin stretch of material had been shoved between her lips. She reached out behind her head, untying the gag, and ripped it from her head with trembling hands.

As her frightened eyes adjusted she found that she was in a small, box-like room with ugly grey walls, sitting upright on a grubby white mattress. Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered the night before… those men…

_What did they do to me when I was asleep?_

She lurched forwards, seizing hold of the bedcovers and whipping it away from her body; but to her relief her bottom-half seemed unscathed. Her hands fluttered to her chest and she let out a shaky sigh, cold sweat breaking out on her brow.

Her insides were churned and sour as she heaved herself up from the bed, standing on the uneven ground. To her mellow shock she discovered that her shoes had been removed, as had her bonnet. She limped over to the door, only to jump backwards when it swung open.

A menacing silhouette stood there, a tall, gangly man with his hands on his hips. Cosette flinched away from him, retreating to the corner of her bed. A cold gust of air shot through the room, chilling her bare feet. 'Sleep well?' the man asked in a thin, raspy voice. He took confident strides forwards and it was only then that Cosette noticed her bonnet and shoes were in his hands.

'W-where am I?' She squeaked, shrinking away from him as he sat beside her heavily on the bed. He gave a laugh, dry and humorless.

'You don't remember?' he asked, his gold tooth glinting as he shot Cosette a smile. 'You don't remember _me?' _

'I-I've n-n-never m-met you be-before,' she stuttered, shaking like an autumn leaf.

'Oh but you _have,' _he leered nearer, his eyes like cold stones. Cosette flinched violently as he advanced towards her, planting her arms on either side of her head in surrender. He unfurled one of his fingers and stroked Cosette's cheekbone lightly. Empowered by instinct she jerked away from him, causing him only to laugh. 'There was a time before Papa came, wasn't there Cosette?' he whispered, his breath hot on her ear. Cosette clenched her eyes shut… she had repressed those memories deep, deep down and she was in no place to revisit them, not now, when there were so many different things to worry about.

'Please stop,' she whispered.

'You remember that don't you? You remember being that scrawny little bitch who got under everyone's feet?'

She clenched her fists and bit her lip, shaking her head so her soft blonde hair bounced on her shoulders.

'Stop…'

'You remember eating under the table with the cat and the dog? You remember that freezing wood where you got the water? You remember the scary man who'd hit you and—'

'_STOP!' _she shrieked.

She remembered.

Yes, she remembered.

The man withdrew himself triumphantly, a smirk on his face.

'Welcome back the lark,' he said mockingly, lifting himself from the bed.

'You're… you're Thernardier!' Cosette concluded, her eyes wide in horror. Thernardier's smirk widened.

'That's right,' he nodded. 'Top marks.'

'What… why am I here? What do you want me for?!' panic rose inside her, now coupled with a strangely painful headache that was suddenly gnawing at her temple. She hissed in pain, cradling the side of the head with the palm of her hand.

'Ten years ago, your father paid us 1500 francs to take you away,' he said matter-of-factly.

'So?'

'Well that was ten years ago… and it wasn't _nearly_ enough!'

'So now you're holding me ransom?' Cosette spat, hate lacing her voice.

'Now you're getting the big idea.'

'My Papa isn't a rich man,' she scowled. 'And he's smarter than you… he'll get me out of here without having to agree to your… your… _conning!' _ Thernardier raised an eyebrow.

'Conning is such an ugly word… it's more of a compromise, a deal. And besides, any good man would pay a healthy sum in exchange for his daughter's _life.'_

Silence swept the room. Cosette's heart fell into her stomach. Her blood froze.

'You're going to… _kill me?'_

'If he doesn't come forth with the money then yes.' The room span. Cosette fell backwards onto the wall. She couldn't believe this was happening. 'We're trying to find your father now… you put up quite a fight back at Rue Plummet, we didn't have time to leave him the ransom note.' Cosette was gripped by panic and fear.

These men were all set to kill her.

_What if they didn't find Papa?_

Thernardier turned to leave. Cosette's eyes snapped between him and the door.

She lurched herself from the bed and charged at the open doorway, slamming outside into a narrow hallway. A frightened shriek escaped her lips as she felt Thernardier grab at her from behind, yanking her body over his shoulder. 'You little—' he muttered. '_Montparnasse! _Get the chain, we have a fighter.' Cosette let out a cross between a shriek and a sob, pounding at the man with her fists as he wrestled her back inside. Soon Montparnasse joined them, a thick chain coiled up his arm like a silver snake. Thernardier seized one end, hastily roping it around Cosette's bare ankle. The metal bit into her skin as she attempted in vain to pull herself away. Soon the other end was tightly wound around the bed-frame and padlocked there. The two men got up to leave, Cosette still struggling with the chain on her ankle.

'Please!' she squealed, near-tears. 'I'm sorry, I'm _sorry!' _she gave the chain another defiant tug, only tightening it further around her foot.

'Welcome home Cosette!' Thernardier sneered before walking into the hallway. Cosette slumped onto the bed, her head falling in frustration. Tears prickled her eyes and she gave the bedframe an angry kick, the leg bound with chain painfully heavy.

Out of the corner of her eye the light in the doorway was perturbed, and to her surprise a figure stood there. A girl was leaning against the doorway with a pale, pinched face framed with tousled black hair. Her stomach was tugged with a thick belt and the edges of her skirts were worn and shabby, the only thing covering her bare shoulders being the torn shawl that was tucked into her belt. Her eyes were almond-shaped and dark, her face hollow and sour. Yet she looked down at the rich girl with overwhelming pity.

''Ponine!' Thernardier called, walking towards her with a smirk on his face. He gently slipped both of his hands onto her shoulders. 'Let's leave our guest in peace shall we darling?' he said, a twinge of malice in his voice.

Of course.

Eponine.

_So changed…_

With her eyes brimming with apology she gently closed the door on Cosette, remorse filling her like ash in a vase.

**Now this kind of thing will be happening to Cosette a lot… in a couple of chapters something bad happens to her but this is when she starts defending herself so don't worry too much. At least now you know they want her for money and not for "other things." (That… that would just be too damn evil!)**

**I would love reviews if you have the time!**


	3. Chapter 3

That night was the longest of Cosette's life.

Her head throbbed and her ankle ached, the chain catching under her dress and sending shivers down her legs. It seemed that each time she slid the chain away it managed to make itself more awkward, tangling and rubbing her ankle raw.

The bed was crude, the mattress thin and the coverlet rough. She gave a grunt of frustration, flipping herself onto her front and slinging an arm above her head in an attempt to get comfortable. She was still wearing her blue dress, only now it was streaked with dirt and torn a little at the rim. The softness of her petticoats against the cold of the chain and the rough of the bedcovers made Cosette's skin tingle, as if it didn't know how it wanted to feel.

Eventually she fell into the darkness of sleep.

Coldness entombed her.

Unwanted memories swarmed her mind. Memories of cold feet on rough ground, memories of aching stomachs screaming out for food, memories of sore shoulders crashing in waves of sickly pain, landing on her the minute she crawled into bed.

She couldn't get the taste of the gag from her lips, the slip of the chain from her leg or the welding of memories and reality. It all came to her, relentless, in a stream of agonized consciousness.

A cold chill flooded through the gap under the door. Cosette gave an angry sigh, only wishing to be blanketed in the warm silk of sleep.

She wanted her father to be there, to feel his weight and warmth beside her, to have his arms wrap around and his chin to rest on her head.

She wanted to hear the soft brush of autumn leaves as she finished reading… she wanted the day to be so mellow as the slip away, and soon Papa was kissing her goodnight or sitting with her at late evening.

The chain gave an ugly metallic clank, sliding from the mattress and landing on the floor, dragging half of Cosette's leg with it.

Her eyes stung with bitter tears as she hauled herself upright, dizzy with fatigue and the pain in her head. She tore the bedcovers away from her and slipped down off the bed, kneeling on the floor.

'Dear Lord, please help me,' she muttered, clasping her hands together. 'Please forgive whatever I may have done to deserve this, please God, have mercy on me.' Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pushed her head forwards, begging for her words to be heard.

All of a sudden the door creaked open, letting light pool into the room. Cosette rebounded a little in shock, tugging herself to her feet. As the crack widened she saw that Eponine stood there.

'Eponine?' she whispered, regarding her with a dull look. 'What do you want?' Eponine sucked in through her teeth, playing with the door handle. She gave a shrug and tossed her head.

'Don't know,' she sniffed. 'S'pose I just wondered how… how you were,'

'What do you care?' Cosette snapped. She paused. 'I'm sorry.'

'Yeah.' Knowing it was alright, Ponine walked forwards into the room and sat herself down on the edge of Cosette's bed. Cosette sat beside her, praying that she would bring her some kind of comfort. 'I… well _I'm_ sorry, Cosette.'

'It's not your fault,' Cosette sighed, turning her head away. 'It's just your father.'

'That's what I'm sorry about,' she said, a smirk jerking onto her lips. 'You know he is only in it for the money, he doesn't want to… you know… _hurt _you.' Cosette nodded, although she could detect the uncertainty in her voice. 'They're all trying to find your Papa now… if he pays the ransom then they'll let you go.'

'I hope so.' A curtain of golden hair fell over Cosette's face. She took a deep breath in, stitching a smile onto her face. 'Thank you Eponine,' returning the smile, Eponine patted Cosette lightly on the hand. Movement sounded outside and the two girls jerked their heads towards the door.

'I'd better be off,' Eponine said, pulling herself upright.

'Wait!' Cosette called. Eponine whipped around, her black hair flying out around her. Cosette struggled to think of something to say. She bit her lip, so badly wanting Eponine to stay with her. 'Why… why does your Papa have my shoes?'

Eponine leaned against the doorway, resisting a smirk. 'He wants to sell them,' she said. 'And your bonnet too.' Cosette ducked her head.

'May… may I have them back?' Eponine shook her head solemnly. 'What about my locket? Can I have my locket back?'

Eponine frowned. 'Your locket? Thernardier never took your locket.'

* * *

Valjean knew something was wrong the minute he walked inside. Perhaps it was a fathers' sixth sense, perhaps it was the sensory agony of parental love or perhaps he just… _knew, _like parents do sometimes.

'Cosette?' he called in a low voice, slamming into the hallway. There was a twinge of fear in his tone as he let the door ricochet loudly from the wall. His heart was pumping with adrenalin when no winsome voice or delicate patter of feet greeted his ears. 'Cosette?' he said again, only louder, rougher. He stepped properly into the hallway, noticing his daughter's shawl had been discarded hastily onto the floor.

Taking a couple more steps forwards he realized the carpet had been scuffed massively and one of the tables beside him was in disarray.

_Oh God… what the hell happened?!_

_'Cosette!' _suddenly his voice exploded in a fit of fear. His heart clattered noisily in his chest and swamped his senses, his stomach twisted into knots and a feeling too deep and wretched to describe engulfed him, causing him to break out into involuntary shivers.

Jean Valjean was scared.

He stood still, swaying slightly. He knew not whether to crumple to the floor or dash outside. In a near-terrified episode of adrenalin he chose the latter, slamming the door that Cosette had shouldered wide open. He ducked carefully between plants in the garden, his heart so full of love and fear he thought he would burst. As he tore outside his head was ripped from side to side, clawing in his surroundings with starving, flickering eyes. '_COSETTE!' _he screamed, his hands flying to his head in frustration. _'C-COSETTE!' _his eyes still searched, darting in instinctive fatherly panic.

Something on the ground caught his eye.

He dropped down heavily on his knees, a torturous void eating him from the inside out.

Cosette's locket.

The locket he had bought her when she first came to live with him.

A sob rose in his chest but he dismissed it instead with a shudder as he gently leaned over a hand to pick up the locket.

The chain was broken, and at that moment, so was his heart.

**Okay, so Cosette/Valjean is just my favorite thing EVER! This is actually pretty solemn and I felt bad for the guy (I feel this way whenever my older brother storms off,) but I kind of enjoy writing the darker scenes. **

**I also see a friendship blossoming between Eponine and Cosette… PLEASE don't kill me.**

**PLEASE REVIEW! Seriously, I can't tell you how happy it makes me when you just leave me a little line on how you thought the story was. It doesn't necessarily have to be positive but that would be nice for me.**


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning Cosette awoke groggily to someone shaking her. 'Get up!' a harsh voice growled, and the girl jerked awake. Madame Thernardier stood there her salmon-pink face as brute and grotesque as Cosette had remembered, only now it was furnished with ageing lines. Cosette sucked in her breath as she regarded the woman, refusing to flinch away from her.

That night something had been evoked in the depths of her own mind.

Throughout the uncomfortable reliving of memories, Cosette noticed that Thernardier featured in almost none of them; it was always his _wife _with rough hands and a harsh voice, it was always his _wife _who'd kick at her, spit at her, or condemn her to a meal shared with dogs.

Cosette had been a feeble girl of eight when this happened, a broken, pathetic child who had never known love and had therefore only been empowered by the discomfort she felt and, more likely, how she wanted it to end.

But Jean Valjean had borne her out of misery, had raised her to the light and had shown the child love. Like her father, Cosette was a changed person; no longer the scrawny, frightened child, but the thoughtful, intelligent teen who had been reborn at the hands of loving human affection.

She had something to live for, something to strive towards.

She would not fall into trance-like routine or self-mourning. No. Not whilst passion and love still dwelled strongly within her.

She straightened her back and swung her legs out of bed, forcing every fiber in her body not to jerk away from Mme. Thernardier. She pushed herself nearer, in the same manipulative way her husband had. 'My idiot of a husband says we have to keep you in good condition,' she hissed, her voice low and secretive. 'He says you can't work… I say a bit of work won't fucking kill you!' the unnecessary and violent use of language made Cosette flinch instinctively. 'Here,' she muttered, thrusting a ball of material and sewing needles into Cosette's unprepared arms. 'Stitch up these clothes at least.'

With that the woman turned on her heels and fled the room, leaving Cosette with the pile of work.

Bowing her head in concentration, Cosette picked up the rough material and began to sew. The needle pricked her fumbling fingers but she bit the pain back, telling her nerves to steady themselves.

The sight of Mme. Thernardier had frightened her massively, but by God she would not show it.

Beads of blood formed on her smooth white hands… she remembered… sewing under the table…

_No Cosette, think of Papa, think of… Eponine._

Eponine; the name had never been of any comfort to Cosette before. The conversation they had the night before, although brief, had startled Cosette immensely. She felt a sudden bond with the girl, she felt empowered by her scrap of affection, and she had clung to it through the rocky night.

Every time the needle slipped and pierced her hands she clenched her eyes shut and thought of Eponine and of how she cared. The very memory sent a rush of warmth to her heart, that a girl as impressionable and influenced by malice as Eponine had shattered through the threats of her parents, simply to apologize to Cosette for their behavior.

'Well hello there my little lark,' a steely voice came from the doorway. Cosette paused her work for a little before lifting her head. Thernardier stood there with a chunk of bread in his hand and a smile plastered onto his face. Oh God, how she wanted to wash that smug smirk away…

'I trust you slept well?' he took a confident strut forwards, surprised when Cosette made no attempt to move.

Her face was blank and her mouth was straight line, the only scrap of emotion being the slight scowl etched onto her brow.

'No… nightmares?' he sneered. 'Oh yes, you used to have nightmares a lot here; who wouldn't? What with the scary man who'd hit you and—'

'I'm not scared of you.' Cosette's voice was smooth. Easy. Like a blade through water. Thernardier's smile dropped immediately.

'What?'

'When I lived with you, ten whole years ago, I remembered everything your wife put me through.' She stood, scowled, took a surging step towards him. 'Your _wife _Thernardier, always your wife, never you. You didn't care about me… heavens, you couldn't even remember my _name! _Give me one good reason why I should fear you… Go on!' Cosette was split, fifty-fifty. Half of her expected him to slap her across the cheek… judging by his face he wanted to. But the other half was shielded with the memory of what his wife had said, about keeping her in good condition. Surely he wouldn't slap her if her wanted to shield her?

The smile found its way back onto his lips, a quick, jerky movement that flashed across his face and departed almost immediately. His skin was pale and his eyes were filled with anger.

'Bold little—'he threw the chunk of bread at her. Hard. 'Eat. Go on.' Cosette took the bread lightly in her hand, a mask of forced composure embracing her face. She took a delicate bite, staring at Thernardier the whole time. 'Now listen here you spoilt brat,' he spat. 'Don't get yourself into any trouble. I want you out of my life as soon as is humanly possible. You know what's gonna happen, Daddy comes, pays the ransom, nice and easy. I want it to stay that way!' Cosette looked at him with dull interest in her eyes. She was still chewing the piece of bread slowly. Swearing viciously he got to his feet and stormed out of the room, leaving the door wide open behind him.

Cosette gave a shaky sigh when she saw Eponine standing in the doorway. She smiled weakly, and the girl saw this as an invitation to dash inside. 'Hi,' she said, not quite sure whether she should smile or not.

'Hi,' Cosette said back, laying down the piece of bread.

'Are you alright?' Eponine cringed the minute the sentence escaped her lips, but Cosette answered the question with a giggle.

'I've been better,' she said, smiling genuinely.

'This is all so… strange,' Eponine mused. She turned to face Cosette, her brown eyes honest and shining. 'Thernardier's never kidnapped anyone before. I didn't think he'd go that far… but well, he probably won't try anything now… I heard from outside… I know it's hard to believe but he can be a good man, sometimes,' her words tumbled aimlessly from her mouth. 'Anyway, the whole group is searching for your father.'

'They haven't found him yet?!' Cosette's eyes widened in fear.

'Oh don't worry, they know their way around, they'll find him,' she gabbled hurriedly. 'And they're confident too, you know because your father'd never go to the police or anything, last I checked he wasn't on good terms with them and—'

'What do you mean!?'

'I've said too much,' Eponine straightened up, pulling herself away from Cosette. 'I'm sorry Cosette. I'm sorry about everything just…' she tried to find something, anything to say that might soothe the girl. '…just stay strong alright?'

'Thank you Eponine.' And with that the girl fled the room.

Cosette was left alone with her thoughts. And in that time she knew the reasons of fate's hand. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger. It hardens us, sharpens us. It prepares us. It molds us. It shapes us. Cosette was clay and fate was her sculptor.

* * *

Valjean searched.

What else could he do?

That night he charged listlessly through alleyways, calling his daughter's name desperately. The darkness blanketed him, suffocated him, swamped him.

Panic was so strong within him that it destroyed his other senses. Fear kept him awake, anxiety kept him from eating and love kept him from stopping.

It was panic. Pure panic.

He'd go against the current of people, occasionally stopping them to ask if they'd seen Cosette. Each time their faces would twist in pity and they'd shake their heads.

The night glided by him and all of a sudden it was morning. 'Cosette!' he called down one of the streets. The evident barrier of hopelessness was torturous. He had no idea what had become of her. Had she been kidnapped? Raped? Murdered?

Each distressing thought piled through Valjean's mind, shifting and switching like moving sands. But if he kept moving he could dismiss them from his mind. If he kept moving he could perturb the stream of restless thoughts, of frightening thoughts.

He was strong. He could do this.

_Do what?_

_Search aimlessly? Wait? Pretend you're helping? What!?_

'Cosette!' he bellowed down another street. He restrained his emotions. He dismissed the bitter reality. Cosette was gone.

_'COSETTE!' _he screamed._ 'COSETTE!' _gripping the side of an alleyway for support Valjean very gently slid onto the floor, allowing hours-worth of horrifying thoughts to flood his mind and a sleep deprived night to come reeling back to him in a sickly wave. They took their toll.

Slow and agonizing, like nothing he had ever experienced before.

**I would like to make the point that things change in this fic... like Eponine and Thernardier. I have most of my facts jumbled up horribly but from the bottom of my heart I am _sorry._**

**_PLEASE REVIEW _IT WOULD MAKE ME SO HAPPY!**


	5. Chapter 5

Although she could keep her emotions in control during the day, Cosette found that at night-time they broke loose. When she was not conscious to witness it, Cosette would shake from the stress of the day like a frightened, caged animal. The minute sleep engulfed her, her eyes would furrow and her jaw would move of its own accord. Her now scabby hands would clench into agonized fists and a whimper would escape her lips. When she had been asleep for merely two hours she would be thrashing and full-on wailing, drenched in sweat and her own tears.

Eponine listened from outside, something tugging heavily on her heart.

Eponine had never pitied anything. When she passed a beggar in the street she would pay it no mind. When a poor family lost a child she would simply not care.

But something about Cosette being in her own house with her own family made her fill with remorse. She slowly edged away from the door when her father rounded a corner. He gave a half-hearted frown. 'What are you doing here?'

'Nothing.'

'Were you talking to her?'

'She's asleep.'

'Why's she crying?'

'What do you care?' Thernardier shot a scowl at her before gently brushing past her in the hallway. Eponine looked back after him, making sure he was fully gone, before slowly turning the handle of the door.

_'Hey!' _a rough voice barked, and Eponine let go of the handle as if it were red-hot. She whipped around to see Claquesous standing tall behind her. 'What are you doing?!' he bellowed, causing Eponine to take a tiny step backwards. She tugged herself upright and scowled, pulling the door shut behind her.

'Nothing,' she muttered, bowing her head. Claquesous scowled at her, roughly seizing hold of her arm and whipping her backwards into the hallway.

'Get off!' she spat, snapping her arm free of his grasp. His strength had surprised her. She backed up against the wall until her head rested flat against it.

'Don't go near the girl, do you hear me?' he hissed. Eponine stuck out her chin, folding her arms across her chest.

'This is my house!' she said stubbornly. 'I'll do what I damn well please!' She regretted her words the minute Claquesous's eyes clouded with anger. Her own eyes widened as he took a fistful of her shirt in his hand.

'Don't-go-near-that-girl!' he said through gritted teeth, shaking Eponine roughly with every word. 'Your father's but a petty thief… this is between Montparnasse, Babet and I, not him.'

'But… what about the money?' There was a pause, and Claquesous took a sharp intake of breath.

'Your father will get his fair share,' he muttered. 'Now piss off!' With that he let go of Eponine's shirt, allowing her to hit the wall hard. She pushed off down the narrow corridor, rearranging her shirt as she went. With her head in a daze she hardly heard Cosette's cries merge into painful shrieks.

Cosette was screaming loudly, twisting and thrashing in her sheets. The chain had wound itself high up her leg, biting hard into her skin. Every time she kicked her leg the chain would rip at her calf, causing her to shriek even louder.

Her cries were heard from outside, her wails drifting through the thin walls of the Thernardier household. Outside in the dark of the street Marius Pontmercy listened anxiously. Grantaire leaned heavily against him, stumbling uneasily down the road and giggling to himself like a child; Marius _had _told him not to drink too much. Marius shoved Grantaire away from him, letting him lean against the wall. The shrieks were getting louder, the sobs more frequent. Marius wondered what was happening. 'Grantaire!' he hissed to his friend, who was utterly wasted. 'Wait here, alright? I'm going inside.'

'W-what?' Grantaire slurred. Marius looked from the house to the ground. He knew that Eponine lived there.

'I… I think Eponine might be in trouble,' he murmured. Grantaire laughed heartily, the bottle threatening to slip from his slack fingers.

'Eponine? She's tough as nails! Don't worry about her let's… let's…' obviously losing his train of thought, he slouched against the cool wall, closing his eyes gently. '…Go! Let's go.'

'No. I'm going inside first. She's my friend.'

'Oooh!' Grantaire laughed. Marius shook his head, telling himself that he'd be alright for a couple of moments. Another shriek sounded loudly from the house, and Marius swallowed thickly. Even if it wasn't Eponine in trouble, someone was, and he was going to help her.

The house was merely a hovel, constructed from flimsy wood with a door of thick cloth that was draped haphazardly along the cluttered opening and nailed there. Marius crept nearer, upturning the smallest corner of the cloth door. From a quick scan of the room he saw that Babet was lying slouched in a chair, his head lolling on his chest. He tugged the cloth up properly, slipping underneath into the room. Upstairs there was a full-on scream, and Marius clenched his eyes shut in anguish. He couldn't stand hearing the woman suffer. Dashing gently but hastily, Marius side-stepped Babet and began to ascend the stairs. He found himself in the narrow hallway where Cosette's room lay.

'Eponine?' he hissed, spiraling on his foot and trying to find the room where the wails had come from. 'Eponine?' His heart thumped in panic when his friend didn't round the corner. Then as if on cue, Cosette let out a tearing scream, causing Marius to whip around, his eyes wide in fear and horror. '_EPONINE!' _He bellowed, and forcefully shouldered the door open without a second thought.

The door swung on its hinges and Marius charged into the room, his eyes flickering and his chest heaving. The shrieking had ceased, for Cosette sat upright on her bed.

Marius took a small step backwards upon discovering the girl… but soon stopped.

Their eyes met.

Cosette was sitting with her arms supporting her on the bed, the chain snaked high up her thigh. Her golden tresses hung limply, framing her pale face that was wet with tears. Her blue eyes were flecked with fear and her soft pink lips were parted, her chest heaving with every breath she took.

She was the most gorgeous girl Marius had ever seen.

He took the smallest of gasps. 'Ma-Madame?' he breathed, his warm eyes scoring lightly over her form. Cosette felt a warm rush in her chest as she glanced upon his youthful face, his elegant nose speckled with freckles and his chestnut hair swept sideways… he was beautiful.

Strangers lost in a moment, eye to eye, unaware of the passion inside them.

Something was stirred, so immediately and readily that it didn't feel real.

It was something confused and indescribable, innocent, passionate, warm, mellow, soft… beautiful.

Sharp breaths of this new rush, the rush of paroxysm, of confusion, of love.

For a couple of seconds the two remained encased in each other's eyes. Marius took in all of Cosette's features: the delicate sweep of a nose, the gloss of hair that tumbled lustrously down her shoulders, her bright, clear eyes and her unblemished skin, lily-white like a perfect porcelain doll. 'I…I…' he opened his mouth but found that no words came out. Cosette was the first to break the gaze, ducking her head shyly and wiping the tears from her cheeks with her shaking hands.

Marius took a gentle step forwards, reaching out his hand. His brow furrowed into the smallest of frowns as he eyes Cosette up and down. The chain that mingled with her skirt caught his eye. 'Are you… Are they… _keeping _you here?' he breathed. Cosette looked up, giving him a listless nod. She could hardly keep track of what he was saying. It was as if a spark was glowing inside of her, for at the sight of this man had evoked a totally new feeling within her. Seconds were years. Everything was nothing.

Marius felt a strange fit of anger at the sight of the chain, he could feel his face reddening.

_Why did he feel he needed to protect her? _

Because he did.

That's all he needed to do.

He took a step forwards and love tugged at his heart. Yes, it was love. He could have blamed it on shock, anger, fear or adrenalin, but no. It was love.

Cosette was synchronized with him. The two, trapped in a heartbeat, their hearts full. Their hearts full of love. Love struck like lightning, so powerful and intense it couldn't be denied. It's beautiful and messy, cracking a chest open and spilling their soul out for the world to see.

The world fell away. The room fell away. The chain slipped from her ankle, the bed slid from underneath her. It was just them. Them and love. She couldn't turn away from the eyes that held her. Something that sparked with warmth kept those eyes from being cold.

And there they were.

Strangers.

Strangers in love.

All too quickly the room came reeling back to them, the chain on Cosette's leg, the ugly gray walls and the grimy, twisted bed sheets. Marius regained his wits, his anger fixing back into place like a train straying from the tracks.

'Madame,' he said in a low voice. 'Who did this to you?'

'Thernardier,' Cosette answered, her face falling like the slip of a hand as she was dragged back down to earth with a bump. She shifted her leg a little, causing the chain to jangle.

'I'll get you out of here,' Marius promised, his young voice determined and powerful. Cosette admired his passion. 'I swear… Madame I'll get you out of here.' Her face broke out into a watery smile.

Nothing was explained.

It didn't need to be.

Marius only needed the chain on her leg and the love in his heart to plough him onwards and to spin his own story. They must be keeping her hostage.

He took a large step forwards until he was right in front of Cosette. Cosette felt weak in the stomach and the legs, her top half swaying slightly. It reminded Marius of Grantaire. God, had that really only been a couple of minutes ago?

Without thinking, Cosette reached up to grip Marius's arms, her eyes pitifully lost and crazed by love. Marius swallowed again, sitting down very gently beside her on the bed. He shook his head, staring into her eyes and then at the chain. 'I… I'm doing everything all wrong,' he whispered, a bashful grin blessing his lips. 'I… I don't even know your name…'

'My name is Cosette,' she said sweetly. Her voice was perfect. Tiny.

'Mine is Marius,' he said softly.

Pulling away with the smallest brush of fingers, Marius leaned closer to examine the chain. He gently unwound it from her leg, letting the folds of her skirts fall back over it. He sucked in his breath. 'It's padlocked,' he announced. 'We'll need a key—'

The door burst open and Cosette shrieked. Marius jumped upright, pulling his body in front of Cosette and shielding her with his arm. Cosette leapt up from the bed.

'_What in Christ's name are you doing here?!'_ Thernardier bellowed, his face red with anger. Cosette stayed still, her eyes wide and her mouth parted in fear. Thernardier surged forwards, seizing hold of Marius's arm roughly.

_'No!_' Cosette yelped as Marius was dragged away from her. Marius fought back, trying to tug away from the man, but was soon thrown out into the hallway.

'If you go near her again, I kill her! Do you understand?' he spat, throwing Marius to the ground. 'And don't even think about bringing the law here… if you do she'll be _dead!' _Marius tried to pull himself upwards, but Thernardier pinned him to the floor with his foot. Cosette ran desperately towards him, but the chain restrained her no matter how hard she tugged at it. The horrific scene lay framed in the doorway. '_Now get out and don't ever come back again!' _he screamed, kicking at Marius.

The same red-hot passion Cosette had felt back at her home swamped her senses.

She felt empowered… enraged… energy shot through her, mingled with anger and every other scrap of emotion she had ever felt.

'_LEAVE HIM ALONE!' _She shrieked. '_DON'T TOUCH HIM!' _

Thernardier turned around, surprised. Marius lifted his head from the ground, gawking at Cosette. The girl stood there, her eyes tangled in frustration and her fists clenched. '_I SAID GET AWAY FROM HIM!'_ she repeated.

Thernardier lifted his foot from Marius's chest and he scrambled to his feet.

'Get out,' he spat. Marius looked at Cosette, panic in his eyes. He could not bear to leave her. _'I SAID GET OUT OR I'LL—'_

_'Alright, alright!' _Marius bellowed in reply, reluctantly moving away from the door. 'Just don't… hurt her.' He looked back at Cosette for one last time before sharply turning away.

As he descended the stairs he cursed under his breath, anger swelling inside of him. He upturned the corner of the door roughly, stepping outside into the streets. He hadn't asked Cosette why she was shrieking, so decided to stay in the street for a few more minutes before leaving. Grantaire had seemingly fallen asleep where he was standing, his hand unconsciously clutching his bottle and his eyes closed.

'Hey, Monsieur!' a perky voice sounded from behind him. He turned around to witness Eponine standing there, a grin plastered onto her grimy face. He did not return it. 'What's wrong?'

'Eponine,' he growled, stepping forwards. The grin fell abruptly from her face at the anger in his tone.

'What… what's wrong?'

'Did you know about Cosette?' he said in a low voice. Her eyes flashed in alarm.

'I… I…' she jerked her head away from him, closing her eyes. 'Yes.' Guilt fell heavily on her shoulders, unexplained guilt.

'Eponine,' he said again, only much softer. 'You have to help me.'

'What?'

'Please… you have to help her escape.'

'But… _how?'_

'Thernardier must have the key to the padlock on her leg… find the key, release her tomorrow night and I'll be waiting here. Please, Ponine, you're the only one that can help.' Eponine glanced up at him in a startled manner. Her eyes suddenly broke out in warmth; she was a fool in the eyes of love.

'Alright,' she said, sighing. 'I'll help her.'

'Oh, thank you dear Ponine, thank you!' Marius exclaimed, seizing hold of her hands suddenly and spinning her around. She gave a shriek of delight, her dark tresses flying out behind her. She never wanted to let go of Marius's hands.

She was so lost in love that she didn't think to ask why Marius even cared about Cosette.

She was so lost in love that she didn't consider the consequences.

She was so lost in love that she didn't notice Marius's soft hands pull away from hers, only when the cold night air replaced the space where his fingers had been.

**Um, yeah :/**

**I don't feel great about this chapter. And I _know _Cosette and Marius don't meet like this and I _know _Marius and Eponine don't really spend much time together and I _know _Marius lived in Thenardier's inn/ next-door to the Thernardier's for a little while but THIS fic is BASED ON THE MUSICAL! :D *Jazz hands!* **

**I'd also like to point out that the members of the "Patron-Minette" are changed here because I need them for a little bit of drama later on. Some people don't exist here. Because this is musical based.**

**Also, I do know that Thernardier went by the name "Jondrette" (and I _have _read the Brick,) but in the musical version in Paris/Look Down, Gavroche does say "Watch out for old Thernardier!" so that's really gonna be my excuse. Because this is musical based. **

**Eponine I've always found is tricky to write. I had to change her to make her sympathetic. I'm sorry. **

**Azelma doesn't exist here. Because this is musical based. **

**Reviews would be lovely… I need to know whether this is good or just downright terrible!**


	6. Chapter 6

**This chapter gets violent. **

**There are no rape themes yet but just to warn you, there is violence… and it's not my best chapter ever. **

Jean Valjean felt eerily calm. His days had no routine to them, for he had not slept for so long. He would simply wander the streets, his legs feeling detached from his body and the whole world in a seemingly encased sort of place, like the inside of a glass bowl.

It was fatigue that would send his mind astray.

He would mutter to himself, turn the rounded corner of a street into a different one and stumble a little, his legs carrying a dull pain that he was seldom-aware of.

There was a throbbing panic inside of him, softened by the melody of sleepiness and nursed by the lightness in his head.

He would call his daughter's name, and when there was no response, would ask someone if they had seen her. When they shook their heads he would nod his own, his composure and calmness anything but forced.

It was as if it was a coping mechanism, to digest the tiniest chunks of grief and panic until it simply slipped away without any startling or evident signs of it being there at all.

There was a great aching void inside of him. He longed to see his child's sweet face. To hold her gently in his arms and to hear her chiming voice.

Valjean slipped his pocket-watch out of his pocket. Ten to one. Had the morning really slipped away from him so readily? He eyed a policeman who was leaning against a wall. Yes, he had considered talking to the police, although from what he had gathered they had not improved since they chained him up an innocent man many years before. In Valjean's eyes the law was a merciless creature of injustice, stamping out any shred of humanity a man might have. Prison had changed him. It had hardened him. It was now his acute instinct to avoid any policeman he saw, for the sight of them stirred something inside of him that was best left unprovoked. He was sure they would not show any pity towards him and he was better off searching for Cosette himself.

He didn't know how he should feel. He just knew that he had to keep looking. Although his pace was slow he could not afford to waste any time.

As long as he was looking, he was helping.

As long as he was looking, Cosette was safe.

And he needed that foundational knowledge to console him.

* * *

The day glided past Cosette in a rush of painful hands and weak yellow light. She was handed work to complete occasionally, and was rather glad of it, as it was something to do.

Thernardier came in with a piece of bread for her, needlessly announcing it as 'lunch.' When the door was closed Cosette would make the stale bread last, nibbling at it at the small intervals between sewing or knitting. Today however, Thernardier stood for a little longer after handing her the bread. She raised an eyebrow. 'Can I help you?' she said with a hint of sarcasm.

'Don't get any ideas from that _boy,' _was her sour response. She ducked her head, hiding her smile. Yes, 'that boy' had invaded her mind for the last couple of hours. Every time she thought of him she would smile, coupled with blushing and a whole other cocktail of emotions she had never felt before. She thought about him so intensely, trying to preserve the image of his youthful face in her mind for as long as possible. 'He won't get you out of here,' Thernardier continued. All of a sudden he advanced towards Cosette, causing her to scramble backwards against the wall in alarm.

'_What are you—'_

She was cut short by having something thrust over her head. A bag, it seemed, of rough material, with a fug of cheap tobacco. Thernardier clipped her wrists in his hands, squeezing them tightly together. '_What are you doing!?'_ she shrieked, the bag blocking her vision entirely. She could feel the rough material against her lips whenever she inhaled.

'Don't worry,' Thernardier said tiredly. Cosette heard a small _click _and immediately felt like a weight had been lifted from her leg. The chain slid down her calf, falling from her foot and onto the floor. Her eyes widened in surprise as she realized that Thernardier had unchained her. He lifted her upwards, still holding onto her hands, and steered her out of the room.

'Where are you taking me?' she hissed, feeling stairs under her feet.

'Careful now,' the man said simply, holding tighter onto her arms. A soft hum of voices could be heard just in front of her.

'Where are we? Why do I have—'

'The blindfold's just in case you notice the street,' Thernardier answered. 'Can't have you tracing us back here.'

All of a sudden a gust of air lapped at Cosette, lifting the corner of the cloth door upwards. Threads of conversation knotted in the air, mingled with the stench of alcohol and more tobacco. Some of the voices she recognized from members of the Patron-Minette. A small glow of outside was visible through the thick cloth of the blindfold.

'Here we are,' Thernardier murmured, shoving open what sounded like a door. Before she could react the bag was whipped from Cosette's head and she was pushed into a small square room before having the heavy door shut on her. She whipped around in an episode of startled alarm before realizing she was in a bathroom of some sort. 'There's a mirror there,' Thernardier yelled through the door. 'You might want to clean your face.' Cosette turned obediently, stopping suddenly when she saw her reflection in the mirror.

'Oh God,' she breathed, swearing unconsciously. Cosette's soft golden hair was knotted in stringy strands, hanging limply and messily about her face like rat's tails. There was a mottled red scar grazed along her forehead, crusty with dried blood and upturned skin. She gently brushed a strand of hair away from her cut to see that a trickle of crimson was plastered onto the side of her head. The skirts of her dress were torn a little at the bottom, splattered with mud and streaked with grime at the knees. A great flap of blue silk that had caught on the chain hung against her petticoats, laced with more dirt.

The cold white skin of her leg was embroidered with little red nips, some bleeding but others just rather painful. She examined her dirty face, blushing fiercely; had Marius really seen her like this? All of a sudden there was a knock on the door.

'_Hey!' _Thernardier barked. 'Hurry up in there.'

The room was small and windowless, containing only a pail of cold water, a cracked mirror speckled with black dots and a shallow tin washbasin. Cosette hastily gathered the water in her hands, scrubbing at the painful scar blossoming from her temple and rubbing the refreshing cleanliness over her sore leg. She tried in vain to clear some of the dirt from her dress but instead switched to her cheeks, wiping away the thin layer of grime that masked them. Running her long slender fingers through her tangled hair, Cosette managed to scrape the unwashed tresses from her pale face into a suitably plain style. 'Are you ready yet?'

'Yes.'

The door swung open again, Thernardier rearing forward to force the blindfold back over her head. She gave a muffled sigh, wrinkling her nose at the unpleasant smell yet allowing the man to steer her upwards. She carefully ascended the stairs, feeling someone's body brush gently against her in a delicate patter of feet.

'Ponine?' Thernardier stopped. 'What're you doing?'

'Dropping off some letters.'

'Letters?'

'Yes… I'm going to tell the rich man at church that I have a sick little brother. It's all written here,' Cosette heard a rustling of papers, frowning in confusion at the odd conversation. 'I have asked for 200 francs for medicine.'

'Alright then. Take care.' A soft breeze fluttered past Cosette as she felt Eponine shift hastily down the corridor.

'Pretend you didn't 'ere that,' Thernardier said, a twinge of humor in his voice. 'Just some little errands need doing.' He shoved Cosette into her box-like room, kicking the door shut behind him. He whipped the blindfold from her and took her arms over to the bed, the rest of her body following not far behind. Cosette sucked in through her teeth as he chained her ankle to the bed-frame once more, seemingly overcome by the same eerie calmness synchronized with her father. He tied the chain a little tidier than he had done before, winding in coldly around her leg and securing it with the same padlock he had used before. When he stood he gave a little frown, taking a step backwards. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but instead pressed a hand to his pocket. 'That's that then,' he murmured, and fled the room quickly.

* * *

That night Cosette awoke to a noise beside her bed. She frowned in confusion for a couple of seconds, her eyes still sticky with sleep. God, she was so tired.

Her head spun in darkness for a few painful seconds, coldness clamping down on her skin as she heaved herself upright. 'Marius?' she whispered softly, rubbing at her eyes. She could see the top of a soft brown head beside her.

'It's Eponine!' a voice eventually said.

'Eponine?! What are you doing here?'

'Helping you escape! And it'd work a whole damn lot better if you shut your fucking mouth!' Cosette swung her legs out of the bed. The aggression in Eponine's voice did not startle her, for it was not aggression at all; it was fear.

'But… I thought…'

'Get your legs out of bed, properly,' she murmured, her voice wavering slightly.

'Eponine, what's the matter?'

'Nothing! I just don't want to get caught!' As Cosette's eyes adjusted to the light she saw that Eponine was wearing a brown trench coat with three of the buttons missing, and also had a beret crushed on top of her head. The sound of clanking metal could be translated. 'Keep your leg still,' she said firmly, gently unwinding the chain from Cosette's ankle.

'Do you have the key?'

'Yes.'

'How did you get it?'

'Thernardier left it behind when he took you downstairs,' she said, withdrawing a small silver key as if in explanation.

'Your hands are shaking.'

'No shit.' Eponine bit her lip, fumbling with the chain on Cosette's leg, trying to fit the key into the lock. She sniffed. 'I'm cold,' she lied as the padlock slid from her hands.

'Why are you so scared?'

'I'm-not-bloody-scared!' she said fiercely, articulating through gritted teeth. 'I'm not scared of anything.' She paused, grinding the key into the lock messily and unsuccessfully. 'My father isn't in control of this anymore,' she said, almost softly. 'He's just a tool… he doesn't know it yet… Claquesous is in charge of this whole operation. He always has been. He's just been working on a way to push Thernardier away from it all, slow, like, so he doesn't even notice it.' She wrenched the key from its lock having jammed it quite severely, and groped at the inside of her cheek with her clenched teeth. 'And Claquesous isn't the kind of man you want to get on the wrong side of.' Cosette nodded.

'Do you need a hand with that?'

'No.'

'So what's the plan?'

'I unchain you, bundle you downstairs heaven knows how, and Marius'll be waiting in the street.' Cosette's heart thumped in elation.

'Marius?' she repeated, her voice soft and sweet like a spring breeze.

'Yeah,' Eponine answered gruffly. She ducked her head in concentration, trying to work the key properly. 'Shit!' she hissed as it slipped again. She scrambled her hands around on the floor, trying to locate it with her numb fingers. She could feel Cosette tense.

'Eponine!' she squealed.

'What?!'

'Get down!'

'What?'

_'Get down!'_

Before she had time to whip her head around, squeal in a gaspy breath or lurch herself to her feet, a thundering crash greeted Eponine's ears. It was the door.

It swung on its hinges.

It bounced off the wall twice.

Everything seemed to slow down.

Eponine gasped loudly, the breath clawing a surprising pain from her chest. Fear shot through her like ice-water. She was paralyzed to the spot yet rearing to go, her foot poised in a springing position.

Nothing could be done.

Not a single damn thing.

Claquesous shot forwards, his face twisted in rage. 'WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING HERE?!' he screamed, seizing hold of Eponine's arm and wrenching her to her feet. _'_YOU'RE HELPING HER ESCAPE?_ DO YOU WANT TO FUCKING DIE?!'_ Cosette gave a shriek.

'Get off her! Leave her alone!' she squealed, trying to wrench the two apart. 'She didn't do anything I swear down on my life! Look, I'm still chained here!'

_'YOU WHORE! YOU FUCKING SLUT! YOU COULD HAVE LOST US ALL THAT MONEY! WELL NOW YOU'LL PAY! YOU'LL REGRET YOU EVER PLACED YOUR BEADY LITTLE EYES ON HER! YOU WILL!' _

Eponine, who had been in a state of frozen alarm, suddenly began thrashing. With an almighty heave she managed to jerk out of his arms, grunting as she snapped away from him. All through it Cosette tugged at Claquesous's arm, trying to drag him away from Eponine to no affect. He threw Cosette back against the wall, causing her to cry out when her head collided with it. He seized hold of Eponine, dragging her by the hair backwards. Her head snapped towards him and her hands flew to her head, her parted lips releasing a shriek as she was tugged towards him. Claquesous's nails bore into her soft scalp like talons, her beret lying on the floor.

'NO!' Cosette cried as her friend was dragged, kicking, from her. 'No, please, don't touch her!' she cried, tugging against the chain. Claquesous edged nearer, trapping something underneath his foot and dragging it away from the girl.

The key.

That didn't matter now. All that mattered was Eponine.

She put up a good fight. She thrashed, she kicked, she growled in anger and effort. But she was a scrawny underfed girl and he was stronger than her.

There was no fight to be had.

He slapped at her, hard, and she spat in his face. His eyes opened. Angry little stones where his eyes should be. Big brown, frightened marbles where Eponine's should be. He aimed a kick at the back of her legs and Eponine buckled over, crashing to her knees as he wrapped his arm around her neck. She brought up a fist to punch him in the face but he caught it with his free hand, jamming it hard between her shoulder-blades. Eponine writhed in pain, her face twisted with effort as she tried her upmost best to escape.

She felt her arm click and a white-hot pain was sent searing through her body, like a thousand knives. Her body shook in the effort to keep everything under control, to keep her mouth from screaming, to keep her body from falling limp…

Claquesous gave the arm restraining her neck a strong jolt. Eponine's eyes widened, her head jerked upwards and she fell forwards onto the floor.

With shaking arms she propped her crushing weight on her elbows, only to collapse at the pain from her shoulder. A blow hit her smack in the ribs, driving her whole body onto her back. She gave a hiss of pain, trying to scramble upwards, only crushing her ribs more. The man stood over her frail body. Eponine was defeated.

But he didn't stop.

He dropped to his knees beside her, bringing back his arm. He punched her violently, driving his knuckles into her face again and again. Eponine whimpered. She was not weak, but she could not fight this. Not even the strongest of men could fight this.

Tears glistened on her eyelashes like dewdrops on grass and she squinted painfully, everything aching. Her shoulder was washed in waves of sickly pain that shot through her like electric currents. Her nose was bubbling with blood, sliding down her throat and making her shudder. Pain collected on her scalp from where his fingers had left marks. Claquesous stood over her, panting with effort. Cosette was still scrambling against the chain, trying desperately to reach them. Her own face was streaming tears as she glanced over Eponine, her face crumpling and a sob of pity departing her mouth. Her eyes widened as Claquesous closed the door slowly.

'No!'

She could not hammer the door with her fists. She wanted to.

Eponine screamed. Dry and painful. Erupting from a bed of groggy groans and silent sobs came this throttling cry, one that sounded too petrified and helpless to possibly belong to Eponine.

But it did.

Thumps and punches, harsh slaps, mingled with sobs and a desperate scramble of limbs. Eponine's figure became just about visible, darkening the crack of light underneath Cosette's door.

There was a crack.

A loud one.

Silence.

The dark shadow stopped scrambling.

It landed with a thump against Cosette's door.

'EPONINE!' she cried. Footsteps sounded.

Heavy footsteps. Hasty. Jogging downstairs.

Cosette reached out. 'EPONINE!' she sobbed, and began banging on the wall with her fist. 'HEY!' she screamed. 'COME BACK YOU BASTARD! YOU F-FUCKING COWARD!' her shrieks were jittery, perturbed with shaky sobs. 'YOU WORTHLESS LITTLE—' she continued to plummet the wall hard. 'EPONINE!' she screamed again. 'E-EPONINE PLEASE WAKE UP!'

Footsteps walked calmly down the corridor. Cosette stood up tall when the door slowly crept open. She wasn't going to shrink back now.

To her surprise Montparnasse stood there. He smirked when he saw Eponine lying there. He kicked at her lifeless body. 'DON'T!' Cosette cried, but stopped abruptly when she saw the mound on the floor stir slightly. Eponine was alive.

She couldn't help but be washed over in weak relief.

Montparnasse lifted his leg back to kick her again, obviously enjoying the activity, but Eponine heaved herself to her feet, shoving the boy hard in the chest so that he hit the wall with a smack. Cosette did not see her face. She did not see what Claquesous had done to her. She was gone in a streamer of dark hair and the swirl of a tattered brown skirt. 'Eponine!' Cosette called, but she did not turn around. Montparnasse stared after her, still smirking. His grin only widened when his eyes landed on Cosette.

'Hello pretty little thing,' he said, his smile wicked and his eyes tinted with a nasty shine. Cosette shot him a cold scowl, her head dizzy with tiredness and worry.

'Piss off!' she spat, and slammed the door hard.

* * *

Down the moonlit cobblestone of Paris's streets, a hunched figure limped along towards Monsieur Marius. She was alone. Marius darted towards her, his eyes full of hope. 'Eponine, where is Cosette?' he asked worriedly.

'I didn't manage to get her out. She's alive though. She's safe.' Marius's eyes widened when he saw a full view of his friend.

'Eponine what… oh God what happened?!' Marius seized hold of Eponine's chin, yanking it upright into the light. Blood dribbled darkly from her nose and one of her eyes was webbed in a constellation of bruised and blackened veins. Her shoulder was slumped, hanging limply, and Marius noticed her bottom lip was badly swollen before she could snatch herself back again. 'Eponine, who did this?' he growled, his hands clenched.

'No-one… it's nothing…' suddenly erupting into a fit of coughs, Eponine buckled over, shrieking and clutching the side of her ribs tightly. Marius got up behind her, catching her body in his arms. The fold of her trench coat drifted away from her, revealing a pooling blotch of blood on the breast of her shirt.

'Eponine you're hurt, you need some help!' Marius cried, his voice rising in panic.

'I'm _fine!' _she insisted, yanking away from Marius.

'EPONINE!' he called as she darted away from him quickly. '_EPONINE!' _She didn't slow down. Marius shot after her. 'Please, you need help!'

Tired, aching, sore, violated. Eponine was in no fit mood to play Cat and Mouse.

She ducked into an alleyway, flattening herself against the wall and sinking slowly to the ground, panting as she heard Marius's footsteps charge past her hiding place.

A tear escaped her eyes.

It got lost on the rain-soaked ground.

**Okay, so this was a bad chapter. **

**I'm sorry, quality hasn't been great recently. Your reviews are very much appreciated though, always are. :D**

**Thank you. **


	7. Chapter 7

Cosette woke up groggily.

Nausea spun her head.

Tiredness merged everything into a sickly yellow, washing the blurry room in unwanted bright light.

She heaved herself up on her elbows, breaking out into a feverish sweat.

She felt awful.

Her eyes carried a trail of heaviness with them.

Her mouth was dry and her throat was raw.

She tried moving her lips but found her jaw to be painful, stiff like Papa's knees when he had to bend down.

_'Could you get that book for me Cosette dear? Thank you darling; my legs are stiff.'_

Yearning swept in.

Cosette wanted her Papa.

She wanted his mossy-green voice.

She wanted his gentle hands.

She furrowed her eyes, confused at the randomness of the memory.

_'Come here pet… hold Papa's hand when we cross the road… good girl.'_

Her lips moved of their own accord. She mouthed the word.

'Papa.'

Like water filling a crevasse, emptiness filled Cosette. Everything was tired.

The walls were tired.

Tired of standing upright.

Tired of being grey.

Tired of staring at Cosette.

The bed was tired.

Tired of sagging.

Tired of carrying Cosette.

Tired of being chained too.

Cosette was tired.

Tired of worrying.

Tired of wanting.

Tired of loving.

Tired of tired.

She tucked her legs under her chin, (although her large bell-shaped skirt disagreed with her,) trying to steady her head. There was a dull throb, right at the front, like hot and cold and love and worry and sick.

_'Cosette, put Catherine down now darling, it's dinner.'_

She moved her head, her neck stifled in the warm stuffy fug of the room. Her breath was hot on her hands, uncomfortable, it made her squirm.

_'What do _you _want?' Eponine sniffs, bows her head at Cosette's comment. Cosette can see her hair, shiny brown, like melted chocolate. _

She coughed, twisted herself, twisted everything. Her brow was damp, she could feel it, as if the fever was radiating from it. A sharp, evil warmth.

There was a pain in the pit of her stomach, deep, penetrative, making her jolt or wince whenever she moved.

She dragged her head back. It hit the pillow, aching in effort. She thought of Eponine. Of Papa. Of Marius.

_'I'll get you out of here,' Marius promised, his young voice determined and powerful. Cosette admired his passion. 'I swear… Madame I'll get you out of here.'_

Jesus…

Marius was forever-ago.

She still loved him though.

Whenever she thought of him her cheeks and chest would flush crimson, a silly school-girlish smile would tickle her lips.

Marius, in all his boyish glory…

_His elegant nose speckled with freckles._

The smile was painful but it was still there. She allowed the sweat to break out of her face, to plaster her already limp hair to her face.

It felt good to let it be.

She gave a toothy grin.

Like her mother had done.

That same listless smile at nothing. At a daughter who isn't really there.

_'Like mother like daughter the scum of the street!'_

Madame Thernardier. Her voice is rough. It makes her frown. Unpleasant.

_'NO!' Cosette cried as her friend was dragged, kicking, from her. 'No, please, don't touch her!'_

'Please…' she whispered.

She was weak.

Her knees broke the barrier of her folded hands.

They flipped away from her, limp.

Her body uncoiled.

_'LEAVE HIM ALONE!' She shrieked. 'DON'T TOUCH HIM!'_

Had that really been her?

The door slammed open.

Cosette gave a hissy sigh, her eyelids drooping.

Thernardier stopped in his tracks before dashing towards her, lifting her limp body from the bed and leaning her head back on the pillows. 'Shit!' she heard him hiss. His face was quite close to hers. He was holding her body up against him but he wasn't looking at her. 'Shit, she's sick!'

_How many s's did a man need to use in one sentence? _

Cosette gave a sleepy smile, closing her eyes.

She felt someone push something to her lips.

Water.

Her mouth couldn't reject it.

It flowed into her lips.

Cool.

Soothing.

As her pulse thundered in her ears.

* * *

Eponine lay in the room next to her, glad to have missed interacting with her family altogether.

Her legs were useless and heavy, lying out in front of her, hugging her skirt.

There was a large red patch of blood on the front of her shirt, dried to a dark brown. Her skirt was crumpled, twisted into her legs like a braid. Whenever she breathed her chest would throb.

He must have cracked her ribs.

Every time she sat up she would collapse back down again, clenching her bottom lip between her teeth, restraining the inevitable curse that would otherwise depart her mouth unchecked. It would make her eyes water with effort, the effort of trying not to cry out in pain.

She clenched the bed sheets in her hands, a sour prickling in her nose. She'd managed to wash the blood off her face. She'd managed to avoid her family and Marius. She wanted to stay in her small dull room forever. She never wanted to come out.

It made her look weak. The injuries made her look weak.

So no-one could see.

Her shoulder was limp. It was best if she didn't move it.

Her eyes were gummy, so she had to go through the painful act of cracking them open.

Pain clawed at her skin. It wanted her to give up. To run to the doctor sobbing. It wanted her to point at Claquesous and it wanted her to say _'Look what he did to me!'_

_Tough luck pain. _

Everything ached and ragged with affliction.

Eponine felt bad enough about succumbing to screaming when Claquesous had aimed punches at her chest. Cosette hadn't seen him.

Cosette hadn't seen him rip at her shirt.

She hadn't seen him beat at her chest, her bare chest, whilst Eponine lay there and screamed like a weak woman.

Toying with Eponine in such a way… to treat her like an easily corrupted child… made her blush ferociously, made her scowl, made her ashamed.

He hit at her, hard. One last time.

There was a crack.

In her chest.

It stopped her flow of breaths; it shocked her out of it.

She saw Montparnasse round a corner. She saw his wicked smirk when he noticed her loosened top.

Her hands were limp.

He opened the door and kicked her violently.

It jerked her to life.

She pushed him away, ignoring Cosette, and hastily covered her bare chest, wrapping her torn shirt together.

She had to run, she had to get out.

She tightened her trench-coat, so tight so no-one could see her weak, beaten form.

She had allowed him to violate her, like he would any woman.

Eponine heaved herself from the bed, scowling.

She was _not _any other woman.

Her lip was swollen from where he had torn it. She clenched her lips together, not allowing herself to wince as she tugged the shattered skin.

She forced her legs upright, her toes curling at the intensity of the pain.

She jerked her shoulder into action, lighting-bolts of pain frazzling through her.

She limped over to the mirror and saw her reflection.

Her face was blotchy. Her lip was still bleeding. Her legs were crooked and shaking. Her hair hung in strings. Dried tears cut track-ways through her grimy face. Her shirt hung limply from her body.

She scowled at her reflection, tossing her head away. With painful hand she gently parted the torn shirt.

There was an evident crack along her chest. The top of her breast was blackened with bruises, there was a dent in her heavy red skin that seemed to be sucking her chest inwards, twisted, deformed.

She laid a gentle hand to her chest and then snatched it back, taking a throaty gasp.

Prickles of pain were gnawing at her ribs, the bones shuddering and juttering, broken and colliding with each other whenever she breathed in and out.

Pulled the shirt back over her chest.

Ducked her shiny brown melted-chocolate head of hair.

Collapsed onto the bed that groaned in protest.

Eponine needed time to heal. Perhaps if she kept her head down for a couple of days… perhaps her family wouldn't notice. Perhaps her ribs and her shoulder and her leg and her nose and her lip would heal without a trace.

It was as good an idea as any.

She ducked under the sheets, pulling the covers up, over her head.

* * *

Marius waited.

He didn't know who he was waiting for.

Cosette?

Eponine?

He needed the established knowledge that both girls were alright.

He had seen Eponine run away from him on rickety legs. He had seen the blood run from her nose and onto her chest. He had held her in his arms for a split-second, he had felt the immediate weight her body transferred onto him, like she needed him there to support her, to hold her.

He had seen Cosette, her leg bunged up in chains, her eyes lost in pools of tears.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

The longer he was deprived of Cosette, the more he loved her.

The more he wanted to embrace her, to kiss her, to protect her, to hold her and to tell her it's alright.

Whatever made her scream.

Whatever Thernardier wanted her for.

He'd help her.

He'd protect her.

That night he'd searched for Eponine wildly, calling her name. The streets were bathed in agonizing blackness, in screaming silence. His heart had pounded in his chest, turning all his other senses into background noise. 'EPONINE!' He'd called. Silence greeted him.

When there was no sign of the girl he'd trudged back to the street, hoping to catch her when she darted inside.

She had to go home at _some_ time.

He glared at the hovel-like building where his beloved was being imprisoned.

He glared at the rough, flimsy door that had made his friend suffer through harsh winters.

He slumped against the corner of a brick wall, sandwiching himself tightly between the stone gap. He rested his heavy head against the cool cobbles, one knee bent, the other lying out in front of him.

His head was full of empty thoughts.

And full ones too.

Eponine was a full thought. Full of pity, of anxiety.

Cosette was a full thought. Full of love.

He exhaled deeply, allowing the thought of Cosette to wash over him like warm water. His head hit the wall with a soft thud and he closed his tired eyes.

The next morning he awoke realizing that:

a) He'd missed Eponine and

b) He had terrible cramp in his legs.

He forced his limp leg to bend into an upright position, swearing viciously.

He'd missed Eponine.

She could be dead because of him.

The rest of the day he justified his actions by waiting.

He instantly felt better knowing that the woman he loved was so close to him.

* * *

Jean Valjean had seen the man step out.

He'd been walking down the street, past a huddle of men, when out of the corner of his eye one of the men had detached themselves from the group and began to walk behind him at an indiscreetly fast pace. Valjean continued to walk, occasionally shooting him the odd glance.

The man coughed loudly, stopping in the street. Valjean sighed, turning and facing him.

'Can I help you?' he asked. The man's eyes glittered with something. Triumph? He shot Valjean a smirk, an all-knowing smirk.

'Bonjour Monsieur,' was his response. The accent was forced into dignity, suffering a common twang. Valjean frowned. The smirk widened.

'Who are you may I ask?' Valjean was getting annoyed. He had been searching for Cosette for days and his constant state of anxiety was tiring and distressing. He needed to push on.

'Name's Montparnasse,' the man responded, tapping the front of his hat with two gloved fingers. He lifted his eyes and tilted his chin. Taking a step forwards he shuffled closer to Valjean. 'Are you the man with the missing daughter? A certain girl called… Cosette?'

'_Where is she?'_

The words were harsh and immediate. His heart skipped a beat, anger pulsating through him.

Montparnasse could sense the desperation in his voice.

He shrugged. 'I'm not sure I know the answer to that question—'

'WHERE IS SHE!?'

Montparnasse took a step backwards, his startled eyes flickering over Valjean.

'I can't tell you that. Not yet. But if you want her back you have to listen carefully.' He drew himself nearer, muttering in an undertone. 'We want 60,000 francs, no less. I'll meet you here tomorrow at midday. Be waiting there with the money and I'll take you to Cosette. You'll be blindfolded.'

Valjean listened in slight horror, drawing himself away from the man.

'And… and what about Cosette?! Is she alright? _Have you hurt her?'_

Montparnasse's grin found its way back onto his face.

'She's alright,' he said, the nastiest of smirks twisting his cheeks. He seized hold of his bottom lip with his teeth, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jacket. 'For now.'

Valjean's face controlled. He scowled, his face twisted in rage, his eyes clouded with anger. Within a second he'd seized hold of Montparnasse's coat lapels, dragging his face up to meet his.

_'And it'll stay that way!'_ he hissed, glaring into Montparnasse's startled eyes. He was at least a head taller than the man, and notably stronger too. 'If you touch her… you're _dead!' _Valjean had never aimed a threat quite so large at someone before. But as long as he was alive, anyone who thought about hurting his girl was as good as dead.

He released Montparnasse roughly, throwing him backwards with a shove. He gave a curt nod, straightening his jacket. 'Tomorrow… midday… 60,000… got it?'

Valjean sucked in through his teeth, nodding ever so slightly. 'I've got it,' he mumbled. 'Just don't go near her boy, if you do you'll regret it.' There was a flush of red high in his cheekbones. He was terrified for Cosette's sake, irate with Montparnasse and yet relieved as hell Cosette was alright.

It was a confusing melt of emotions.

Montparnasse turned sharply from him, again smirking at the lie he had just delivered.

He had plans in store for Cosette tonight.

**Dear oh dear. In the next chapter there are themes of rape )':**

**And for those who don't get it, Cosette has a fever (which was pretty severe in those times.) this was a bit of a weird chapter, I must say, but I would appreciate any reviews!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay, so a real caution on this chapter because it has rape in it. I won't change it to M but I'm just going to warn you.**

By night-time Cosette was fully awake but felt like hell. The sudden bout of fever had weakened her body, made her bones ache and her head spin, made her insides churn with nausea. She could feel the unwanted warmth on her forehead, sticking the few stray hairs to the canvas of white skin.

Stuffing herself upwards she slumped her head backwards onto her pillow, allowing her arms to fall either side of her. There was a pain in the very back of her stomach.

She couldn't be bothered with it.

A couple of hours before Thernardier had entered her room and told her about the meeting Montparnasse had had with her father. She felt instantly flooded with relief, like all the clenched muscles in her chest had relaxed at the same time. She was going home.

But she knew it could never be that simple.

What about Marius? What about Eponine? What about all the memories, all the feelings that had been unwantingly evoked at the feel of the place?

That she could never leave behind.

And all her demons and angels came at night. Silken thoughts of Marius and Papa… unpicked by the thought and sight of Eponine.

God, had it merely been a couple of days since she met them? How could she love Marius with a deep and insane love so quickly? How could she love _Eponine? _

There was that loyalty that still dwelled strongly within her. She knew love didn't wait. She knew it latched on whenever and wherever it wanted to.

If she loved Marius, the love would beam out to him.

If she loved Eponine, the love would radiate onto her.

Love and loyalty… and sick and fear and passion and hatred and—

* * *

There was something cold on Cosette's leg.

She frowned in confusion… but not for long.

Her dreams dissolved into pitch blackness, her blue eyes snapped open and she took a frightened gasp.

There was a hand on her leg that had managed to creep its way up her thigh. Cosette jolted away in panic, her head spinning wildly as she looked around her, trying to see who was there.

'Who's there?' she said, her heart racing. There was a pause, in which someone took a deep inhale.

Oh God, he was so _close. _

She could feel his breath brush lightly against her cheek and her eyes widened. 'WHO'S THERE!?' She shrieked. Having regained her wits she seized hold of her skirts and tugged them back down over her exposed leg.

'Look who's awake,' a sly voice replied. Her heart stopped beating.

'M-Montparnasse?'

'Very clever.'

Cosette's mouth opened and closed. She didn't know what to say. And then, suddenly

'GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT OF THIS ROOM!' thrusting herself backwards and then flying forwards she felt herself collide with Montparnasse, knocking him onto his back. Her body tingled with anger. The same red-hot passion she had felt back at Rue-Plummet swamped her, blinded her, flooded her. Everything tensed and she darted forwards, driving her fist into the man's face with a force she did not know she possessed.

The boy was stronger than he looked.

Although Cosette was at the climax of anger, she was still no match.

Montparnasse leered forwards, snatching Cosette's wrists up in his hands. He gave her an almighty shove, causing her to fall from the bed and onto the floor.

Her spine jarred painfully, but she did not let it sway her anger. She scrambled away from him until her back was pushed against the wall. As Montparnasse approached she heaved herself upright on feeble legs, hurling herself at him. Tears of frustration and hate prickled her eyes as she seized hold of his strong arms and drove them backwards at the same pace her nails bit into his skin. All of a sudden she let out a sob. 'GET-OUT-OF-THIS-ROOM!' she screamed through gritted teeth, managing to ram the man up against a wall. She still had hold of his arms, trying to pump her indescribably fierce cocktail of emotions into physical strength. She let go of his arm for a mere second, plummeting him with her balled fist. But whilst his arm was free Montparnasse whipped it backwards away from her before swinging it forwards and seizing hold of her shoulders.

Before she could scream he'd seized her small body in his and had spun her around, shoving her up hard against the wall. Her head hit the flimsy wall and she gave a yelp, feeling him grab at her wrists and tug them up above her head. He pinned them to the wall behind her as she flexed and bucked against his grip, trying desperately to escape. Her body was trapped beneath him, her screams muffled in the darkness of the room as his free hand felt for the folds of her skirts. He yanked them upright as Cosette released a throttled cry of anger, clamping her knees together in an attempt to keep her dignity. With a sharp movement of his leg he'd roughly forced her legs apart, pinning his weight on top of her. His efforts to remove her skirts had only left them crumpled half-way up her thigh, meaning he couldn't do anything yet.

Cosette fought back her rising panic and took a deep breath, her legs shaking. Tears were expelled hastily from her eyes as thoughts pulsated through her mind, keeping in rhythm with her heart. She stared past the excruciating darkness of Montparnasse's shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut. Her knees were stationary beneath her, crippled in pain and the weakness of fever.

Her body was frozen in a limp slump, her back bent-double from the strain of standing upright.

It was suddenly then that Cosette realized why Montparnasse had chosen tonight.

Because she was weak.

He brought his shoulders up first, pinning her torso to the wall. Discarding one hand with a flick of the fingers he restrained her wrists in his other, using the spare hand to tug at Cosette's clothes.

Her eyes snapped open.

She scowled, her face controlling. 'GET-OFF-ME-NOW!' she screamed, pure will-power and ferocity channeling strength into her arms. The force came from her elbows as she wrenched them backwards with an abrupt swipe before launching her body past his own. His arm created a sort of barrier that the girl slammed herself up against, her legs propelling her forwards. She tore herself from his grip, her muscles throbbing with effort. A chill flooded her and she soon realized that Montparnasse had ripped a strip of skirt from the bottom of her dress.

Still plunged into frightening darkness, Cosette tried using the intensity of her senses, her acute hearing and sharpened sight to try and detect him in the room. The chain had wrapped itself around her ankle twice, restricting her movements. Of course now it would be easier to just push her onto the bed…

An unexpected force knocked Cosette to the ground shoulder-first. Her heart skipped a beat as pain and panic crashed together into a deafening crescendo. He restrained her with his arms as she beat against him, forcing every part of her against the movements of his hands. Her hands searched for him wildly, her chest heaving with fear and breathlessness. All of a sudden he grasped hold of her hands and pinned them down beside her, hoisting up her skirts hastily with his free hand. All Cosette could think about was losing her dignity and how much it would hurt. 'SWEET JESUS GET OFF ME!' she bellowed. Her thoughts took wildly sinister tracks and the composure and passion drained away from her. She thought of nasty men Papa had told her about. She knew what they did. She let out a sob as he knelt on her legs. 'YOU'RE HURTING ME!' she cried, partnered with Montparnasse's curse when he realized how many skirts the girl was wearing. Cosette felt a strange and pointless embarrassment as she felt the man inspect her underclothes, and gasped coldly when he found his way to her pantalets. Shoving the skirts forwards and rolling them towards her stomach, Montparnasse seized hold of both her legs, positioning them either side of him. Half her body was raised from the ground, pinning all her weight on her shoulder-blades.

His grip was painful. She could feel the chain still snaked up her limp, exposed leg.

Her brain spat at her, _what should I do, what should I do, just tell me what to do!_

She wasn't going to lie down and take it.

Cosette gave a mix between a scream and a cry. She thought of Montparnasse kicking Eponine's body and a new kind of anger gripped her.

It was a wild shot, a wild thrash, but she had to do it.

She ripped one of her arms away and struck it once, twice, three times along his cheek. Hard.

In the barrier of his body she managed to rear forwards, slamming her chest against his torso and causing him to topple backwards onto bent knees.

It was a brief and narrow gap, but nonetheless Cosette managed to throw herself to her feet and then onto him.

She cried in anger, tears dribbling down her face as she collapsed onto his back and pounded him with her fists. Montparnasse reached up and seized hold of her arm, dragging her onto the floor in front of him. Cosette aimed a kick at his face, lurching the top of her body forwards to fight him.

Soon the two were brawling on the floor ferociously, teeth gritted, fists clenched, punching and slapping and kicking and scrambling like a pair of animals.

'HEY!' The door swung open and Cosette heard a scuffling of feet. 'HEY!' the voice said again, and hands emerged to seize Montparnasse around the middle. Feeling an immediate weight being lifted from her, Cosette saw Thernardier drag Montparnasse from her and shake him roughly. 'YOU IDIOT!' he barked, ignoring Montparnasse's attempts to struggle against the break of his arms. 'YOU FUCKING IDIOT!' Lifting the boy fully from the ground, the man wrestled him outside into the hallway. With a loud crack he was slammed to the floor. 'WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER, EH? FOR FUCKS SAKE 'PARNASSE, THE GIRL'S FATHER'LL BE HERE TOMMOROW! SHE'S GOT TO BE IN GOOD CONDITION!' far too tired and fearful to watch, Cosette allowed her head to fall against the cool floor, her eyes slowly closing.

* * *

Montparnasse rose from the floor, dabbing his finger against his bleeding lip. 'She's one crazy bitch,' he muttered, then turned to glower at Thernardier. 'And _you're _the idiot. You can't even protect your own fucking kid, let alone protect someone else's.' The boy shouldered roughly past a confused Thernardier and stormed off down the corridor.

Cosette's brow furrowed, her eyes still closed. Thernardier reached down and lifted her half from the ground, resting her body against the frame of the bed.

'He won't bother you anymore,' he muttered, with more anger than tenderness. He stood to his feet and darted out of the door.

In the distance of a memory Cosette heard him call Eponine's name.

**I sense conflict arousing…**

**Yeah. So that was disturbing. I'm not sure if this still classified as actual rape or… themes… of rape. Either way I was apologizing to my Les Miz poster with Cosette's face on all the way through this. I feel bad and it was a hard chapter to write but… yeah, this is all planned out so… um, yeah.**

**Review pretty please, it would make my day! :D**


	9. Chapter 9

**Eh… this chapter was… hard. I re-read certain parts of the brick to try and get Thernardier's interactions with Eponine accurate but… Well, it's hard! I've never written for these two before and I really struggled trying to decide how they'd react with each other, so I'm just going to play it safe and mark it OOC for Thernardier because… he's pretty out of character here. And Ponine always was so I don't think there's much point trying to explain her character. **

'Eponine?' Thernardier called. He gently closed the door on Cosette, who was resting against the bedframe with one leg out in front of her. 'Eponine?' he said again. Montparnasse's comment played on his mind: 'you can't even protect your own fucking kid.' The more he thought about it the more he realized when it was he'd last seen his daughter. Not that they ever spent much time together, but in the small house they often bumped into one another.

The man felt a sort of sour panic filling him as Eponine did not respond. _'For Gods' Sake!'_ he thought to himself. _'That girl can take care of herself!'_ Nevertheless his panicking did not cease.

His fingers closed on the door handle of Eponine's room and he twisted it open with a stiff push, synchronized with another 'Eponine?'

Startled, Eponine whipped around in a clumsy sort of haste, her eyes widening at the sight of her father. Within a second she'd ducked her head just as her father had taken a small step backwards in alarm.

'GET OUT!' she screamed. 'GET OUT OF MY ROOM!' Eponine hoisted herself from the bed, pushing her arms out in front of her and attempting to shove her father out of the room. She gave him a forceful push and it was only then that Thernardier reacted. His fingers unclenched the door handle and he whipped Eponine's wrists into his hands, wrenching them apart so she had no choice but to face him. Eponine gave a half-hearted struggle, jerking her head away from Thernardier's gaze. She let her bruised eye settle to staring at the ground, feeling her father's eyes boring into her. He gave a sharp intake of breath and dragged in the details of his daughter's form, her rickety legs, her bloodied chest and her bruised face. She turned to face him, her head cocked to one side tiredly. The man let go of her wrists abruptly, taking another small step backwards. Eponine ducked her head once more only to have her chin seized roughly and dragged towards Thernardier.

'What the hell happened?' he asked with the hint of a frown as Eponine swatted him away.

'Nothing!' she scowled, backing away into her room and gripping a hold of the door-frame. 'Nothing happened!' His eyes drifted to her chest and his frown dropped, replaced by something more panicked.

'Were you… who…' He lifted his hand to his chin and gently rubbed his thumb along his bottom lip, sighing in a foreign agitation.

Thernardier cared about Eponine. At the best of times she was an irritating little bitch, but he still cared about her. His boundaries of fatherly affection and parental tenderness didn't stretch very far; he would never offer her his jacket on a cold night, he would never assist her on long journeys home and he never told her he loved her like most fathers, but the tarnished and slightly age-worn affection was still there. Thernardier had seen his child roughened up before, a bruised eye, a limp leg, but it had never stirred anything in him. Now the sight of Eponine provoked a totally foreign pang of anger and guilt, something that had never crossed him before. He couldn't help feeling that as a father… well, he should have _been _there, he should have _been _with his daughter, wherever that may have been. He took a deep breath as if composing himself, his eyes still searching Eponine in a confused manner. 'You got into a fight, my girl?' he asked, exhaling loudly. Eponine sucked in through her teeth.

'Yes.'

'Who with?'

She paused. 'I don't know… people… on the streets…' Thernardier sighed, eyeing the ceiling; it was painfully obvious whenever Eponine lied.

'Who was it?' he asked again.

'I don't know.'

'Don't bullshit me,' he snapped, his eyebrows falling into a line-like scowl. Eponine gave him a tiny smirk, picking the peeling paint from her door-frame.

'What do you care anyway?' she asked bitterly. 'You've never cared in the past.'

'Eponine, I still… you're my… I… well because it's a bloody wonder you're still standing!' he said loudly, anger flaring inside of him. 'Whoever took a shot at you took a pretty big one… What happened to your chest?'

'I don't know! Just leave me alone.'

'Don't order me about!' he hissed threateningly. 'Now. Who-did-this?' Eponine paused, took a painful breath and heaved it out.

'I can take care of myself,' she muttered after a while.

'Just tell me who did it godammit!'

'Claquesous!' Eponine's word overlapped with Thernardier's, welding with the end of his sentence. There was an abrupt silence that sharply followed, in which Eponine's face tensed and Thernardier's brow dropped. 'It was… it was Claquesous,' she said again, needlessly, quietly.

'What?' he said in a low voice. 'Why?'

Eponine took an instinctive step backwards, a chip of wood from the door lodging into the skin of her fingertip. She raked in another breath. It felt painful and sluggish, as if each breath became harder and harder. She did not want to tell her father the truth.

'I was… I was trying to help Cosette escape,' she said clearly, raising her chin. Thernardier's expression turned to that of exasperation. He rested his hands on his hips and shook his head subtly, aiming a glance at the floor.

'Why the…_fuck _did you do that?' he asked quietly, still not looking at Eponine.

'She's my friend!' Eponine retorted, suddenly leaning heavily against the door-frame. She could feel her legs shaking a little, even though it wasn't cold.

'But I told you! _He _told you! For Christ's sake Ponine, of all the stupid things you could have done to provoke that man… I thought you could look after yourself! I've got enough on my plate without having to look out for my stupid _daughter!' _He took a step away from the door, indignant. Eponine backed away into her room, the urge to rest too great to deny. Her father watched her tuck her painful legs underneath her.

'What're you going to do?' she asked, a twinge of malicious humor in her voice. She suddenly raised her head from the wall of which it had been resting, aiming a direct and painful glare at him. 'What're you going to do, _dearest Papa?' _She laughed coldly at her own mocking tone, eliciting a scowl from Thernardier.

'You're so fucking stupid,' he repeated, heaving himself away from the door and darting down the stairs. 'So fucking…' he shook his head as if trying to convince himself out of what he was about to do.

* * *

Montparnasse and Claquesous were sat bunched together at the bottom of the stairs, Montparnasse still dabbing at his bleeding lip. Claquesous shot Thernardier a smile. 'Good evening Thernardier,' he grinned. 'How's the girl? He didn't roughen her up too badly did he?' for a second Thernardier forgot who Claquesous was talking about. For some reason his mind was directed towards Eponine. He felt so suddenly protective of his brattish daughter that it confused him. _You're such an idiot, Eponine, _His mind parroted as he took brisk steps towards the pair. Claquesous's smile dropped when he saw the look of anger on Thernardier's face. He jerked himself to his feet, his eyes ablaze. _For fucks sake Eponine, why do I have to care about you? _

Thernardier launched himself forwards and seized hold of Claquesous's coat lapels, driving his back against the wall. He could feel Montparnasse shift beside him, no doubt scrambling away from the pair. Claquesous effortlessly pushed Thernardier away from him, frowning. 'Hey… what the fuck is this?' he asked, his tone bitter and frighteningly cold.

_Why couldn't I just leave you to starve somewhere? God, we could do without another mouth to feed anyway. Why are you here Eponine? WHY ARE YOU HERE AND WHY AM I DOING THIS FOR YOU?!_

'You hurt Eponine,' Thernardier scowled.

'So?'

'She's my daughter!'

'But you don't care about her?'

'No be she's… but I'm… but you should have left her to me!'

'What?'

'You should have let me punish her!'

'For Gods sake man, leave it be, she got in the way of business. She should know better and so should you.'

'I can't forgive this.'

'I don't care. I don't know why you're suddenly playing happy families Thernardier, has the girl softened you up?' In a fit of embarrassed anger Thernardier gave Claquesous another forceful push, driving his knuckles into the man's face. Claquesous stood firm like a block of concrete, laughing a little at Thernardier's attempt to fight him. He seized hold of his shoulders and pushed him backwards until his back collided painfully with the floor. Kneeling quickly, he gave Thernardier another punch until blood blossomed from his nose.

Standing triumphantly, Claquesous smirked at the man. 'You know it was harder to fight your daughter than it was to fight you. What kind of a man are you, anyway? I think it's cute that you tried fighting back… you scrawny little bastard.' He laughed nastily and leaned over Thernardier. 'Don't…get…involved,' he hissed before spitting in his face.

Thernardier dragged himself to his feet, bringing a hand to his painful nose. It was throbbing with sour warmth. He wiped the spit from his face with the back of his hand and began to shakily ascend the stairs.

'Hey!' someone called. Thernardier turned to see Eponine standing wide-eyed by her room. She had an arm looped through the doorframe. 'What happened?'

Thernardier turned to face her. All he could see was Claquesous. How he'd underestimated that man. He shot her a scowl. 'Piss off,' he muttered, and shoved past her down the corridor.

**Like I said… it was tricky. And this chapter was very sloppy. And very OOC for both of them. But if you review I would really appreciate it! :D**

**I've also miscounted the chapters… it'll be about 35 chapters for this fic, not 16. Sorry if I disappointed anyone who was after a fairly short story, but LOADS MORE SH*T IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN AND I CAN'T WAIT TO GET INTO THE MEAT OF THE STORY! **

**I enjoy writing this so much, especially with all the positive feedback I get. That's not to say that I don't ignore any criticism… that is if it's _constructive _criticism rather than douchebag-ulary. **

**You guys have been awesome. Thank you!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Gahh! that last chapter though... It was so BAD!**

**Before you dive into this chapter I want to warn you that some of the things I wrote here… they're pretty hard to believe. I won't deny that at all but I hope this fic still entertains you because I still LUUURVE writing it!**

Cosette awoke blearily to Babet standing by her bed. She groaned, lifting herself upright onto her elbows. 'What do _you _want?' she croaked angrily, attempting a scowl.

'Come with me.'

'Where's Thernardier?'

'He's not here.'

'Why?'

'Just come with me!' Cosette allowed arm to be roughly tugged from the bed, dragging the rest of her body with it. She didn't know why she was feeling so awful; she was going home today, wasn't she? Babet hastily unclipped her ankle from the chain, giving her a feeling of eerie weightlessness. He hauled her upright away from the room and into the corridor. Cosette craned her neck, glad to see the back of that awful room forever. Nonetheless she felt drunk with fatigue, her eyes bleary and threatening to slide closed. Babet steered her into the bathroom once more, ordering her to wash her face and her leg.

She started with her eyes, gently splashing water over them. Her face was pale and powderless, her hair a mess and her hands thick with grime and dried blood. The water numbed them, scraping the mixture painfully from her fingers. 'Are you done yet?' Babet called.

'Almost.' Cosette could hardly muster the energy to clean herself properly. Her dress was still torn at the bottom, leaving half of her legs on show. The skin that had been barricaded beneath the chain was painful and raw, and her whole appearance was that of some sort of abused child. She sighed, her eyes heavy. What did it matter anyway? What could she do now?

Her thoughts took a darker turn.

What _could _she do now? She would probably never see Eponine again, and she didn't even know if she was alive. And if she never saw Marius again… that would be too horrible to think about.

Heaving herself towards the door she pulled it open, startling Babet a little. She simply sighed as he seized hold of her shoulders roughly and tugged the gag onto her mouth. She wondered why he wasn't covering her eyes too, but let the trivial thought slip.

'Is Papa here yet?' she attempted to say, although it came out as a muffled mumble. Babet could translate the P's of the word 'Papa.'

'Your father'll be here soon; Montparnasse is bringing him.'

Suddenly seized by something weaker yet stronger than herself, Cosette felt her eyes brim with tears. 'Don't hurt him,' she whispered, although of course it came out as an unidentifiable spew of words.

'What?' Babet was distracted by Claquesous approaching him. Cosette scowled, struggling to no effect under Babet's grip.

'He's here,' Claquesous said in a low voice, keeping his face close to Babet. The man gave a curt nod, thrusting Cosette forwards. She made an untranslatable noise, one that differed between a squeal and a huff. She felt suddenly unaware of Babet's painful grip on her shoulders, nor did she care; she was going home.

The feeling of glee did not last for long. The minute she was pushed into the main room with the cloth door her face fell; Valjean sat there, his face white, sleep deprivation whittled under his darkened eyes. He seemed to have aged dramatically, deep lines were etched around his mouth and his eyes and his body wilted when he caught sight of Cosette. 'Cosette,' he started, taking an instinctive surge forwards. The sight of the gag on her mouth made love tug at his heart, although he was only to be pushed backwards by Montparnasse. Cosette felt flooded with a warm and bitter relief, allowing herself to be slowly lowered into a chair; Eponine stood beside Valjean, her shirt crusty with dried blood and her hands clasped together. Thernardier stood beside her, both poised in a rigid stance, faces glaring, eyes glittering, like wretched runts of the litter… But Cosette was glad her friend was alive. 'Are you alright?' Valjean near-mouthed, itching to get closer to her. His eyes were flecked with concern and sorrow, dragging a deep, remorseful feeling with them. Cosette felt the urge to comfort him, hating the Patron-Minette for putting her father through this. But she could only sit and stare, the gag restricting emotion or words to pass her lips.

Claquesous stirred behind her, his heavy boots clacking on the ground. His hand drifted to the back of Cosette's chair as he slowly rubbed his fingers on the tarnished wood. She could almost feel the smirk drift onto his face as Valjean leered forwards. 'Steady now,' he said smoothly, malice tinting his voice. 'We wouldn't want anything _bad _happening.' Within a second he'd jerked his hand forwards, sliding it onto Cosette's shoulder. She flinched and then sighed roughly, the noise grazing the back of her throat and hitting the material of the gag.

'Could you step away from her?' Valjean said in a steely tone, his eyes flickering from Claquesous to Cosette and then back again. His heart rattled against his chest, Montparnasse's fingers clenching deep into his shoulder. He had to fight every atom in his body not to bellow the request, for the sight of Cosette in a vulnerable place was a deeply distressing one. None the less, Claquesous let his fingers retreat back to the frame of Cosette's chair. 'I have the money,' Valjean continued, his voice steady and low. 'It's all there in the bag… now can I leave with her?'

A pause.

'Check the bag,' Claquesous said, nodding towards Babet. Eponine shifted away from the man as he knelt over to snatch up the knapsack that was lying quite close to her feet. Catching eyes briefly with Cosette she gave her the smallest of smiles… a short-lived lip-jerk… before turning back to the scene she was faced with.

Something pulled on her chest as Cosette saw the bag upended. Handfuls of Valjean's money fluttered to the ground as he lightly averted his eyes, instead prodding his tongue on the inside of his cheeks. Gathering the notes up hastily, Babet took his time counting, flicking his fingers through the creased paper. 'It's all here,' he confirmed, giving the man a sharp nod.

Claquesous bowed his head for a split-second, a smile darkening the edges of his face. 'See? It's all there… now can I leave with Cosette?' Valjean was trembling. Cosette could see it. She made a small whimpering noise, a flavor of disgust, embarrassment, sorrow and dampened anger playing in her dry mouth. Her muscles were tensed and more sweat dibbled from her forehead. Suddenly a frown creased Valjean's forehead. His eyes dimmed as they flickered across Cosette, anger blossoming from deep inside of him. 'She's hurt,' he spat, raking in ragged breaths. 'You hurt her.' Directing his gaze at Claquesous his frown merged into a scowl. 'You said you wouldn't hurt her, you _promised _you _wouldn't _hurt her!' anger rose inside of him, paced with the gradual crescendo of his voice. He strained against Montparnasse's hand, trying to lean closer towards his daughter. 'What happened to her head?'

'When we were moving her she hit her head on the—'

'And why's her skirt ripped…' A sickness swilled inside of him as his eyes snapped open and he shot his head towards Montparnasse sharply. 'Why… is… her… skirt… ripped…_' _he urged through clenched teeth, as Cosette crumpled in embarrassment. She hoped no-one would tell her father of what had happened between her and Montparnasse; it was so _degrading. _

Montparnasse eyed Valjean warily, trying to define the outline of his anger-distorted voice. He could feel the man's involuntary power under the grip of his fingers, seemingly getting stronger with every second he was kept waiting. It was best not to tell him.

Agitated and a little horror-stricken, Valjean kept hidden a reserved anger that settled in the pit of his stomach, like unsure magma rising in a volcano. He wanted more than ever to comfort Cosette, who was slouched over in her chair with strands of unwashed hair draping her fuchsia-pink face. He had never seen her blush like this before. He was gripped by love and parental terror, unwanted scenarios playing out in his mind… How else could Cosette have torn her skirt? He locked eyes with each of the men in the room, every time his concern deepening and his anger growing. 'Did you hurt her?' he hissed, prior tired eyes alert and furious.

Claquesous stepped forwards until he was right in front of Valjean, twisting his hands together. 'No-one hurt Cosette, Monsieur, in fact quite the opposite… Cosette hurt Montparnasse.'

'Don't be ridiculo—'

'It's true! That's how the boy got that pretty little scar of his above his eye! Your girl attacked him.'

'Cosette would never do such a thing,' Valjean said, almost calmly. 'And if she did, she'd have had a reason; A _good _reason.'

Claquesous straightened himself up, drawing backwards from the man. Taking in a deep breath he sketched the smile back onto his face, drinking in his surroundings. 'We want more money.'

Claquesous was prepared for the confused jolt that greeted his ears, a scuffle of feet from unknowing members of the Patron-Minette and a great lurch from Valjean and Cosette. Montparnasse gave an off-throwing wide-eyed glance at the man, wondering what he was playing at… but he didn't dare question him. 'An eye for an eye, your girl hurts one of our men, she pays the price. We want 600,000 francs,' he continued, his voice low and serious. Taking advantage of his distraction, Cosette reached up and tugged the gag from her mouth.

'Are you an _idiot!? _Papa doesn't have that much money you fool!' she shrieked. Claquesous turned on his heel, raising a hand in preparation for slapping the girl. Thernardier got there first, approaching behind Cosette and roughly pinning her arms behind her. Claquesous backed away, influenced by a furious curse on Valjean's part, and turned once again to face the man. From across the room Eponine's eyes widened into large brown marbles, her mouth pinched into a straight line, threatening to fall. Thernardier watched Claquesous back with a look of dread and astonishment. Surely he couldn't be serious?

Shaken, Valjean had had enough. 'Please,' he said, his chest heaving with each breath. 'Just let her go.'

'You have two hours,' Claquesous said dismissively. He turned away from Valjean and strode towards Cosette, kneading the back of her chair with the palm of his hand. Tears fell silently from her eyes at the thought of her father leaving her with these men again. It was torture being so close to him yet having her movements dictated by Claquesous. She just wanted to crush her face into Valjean's chest and hold him tightly, drinking in his warm smell and allowing it to flood her. She didn't know how much more of this she could take. 'Come back here in two hours with 600,000 francs and we'll let her go. If not—'

Cosette felt something whip towards her neck, cold and sharp. Her blood froze. A knife. She gave a throaty, silent gasp, air catching inside of her, putting a stopper in her feelings. Valjean's face was suddenly drained of couler, his eyes dimming even more. His breaths were being disgorged more quickly, panic swelling in his chest and fear ramming up against his heart. Montparnasse heaved his body from the chair, steering him towards the cloth door.

'Wait, he'll see the street!' Thernardier chipped in, bending towards Claquesous.

'Stay _out _of it!' he whispered back ferociously. 'He won't go to the police.' Valjean turned, battling against Montparnasse who was attempting to shove him outside into the street. He turned rapidly, trying to meet the gaze of Cosette. Claquesous gave him the same smile, maintaining perfect eye-contact.

'Go on,' he said slowly, giving the knife a sharp dig into Cosette skin. She shrieked, clenching her fists, before breaking out into body-keeling sobs. Tears ran rivers down her face, the threat of Claquesous's knife eliciting high feminine wails to spew from her mouth. Valjean's eyes widened, his face collapsing into fear rather than anger.

'Cosette…' he said again, failing to resist the powerful push of Montparnasse's hand against his chest. Before he knew it he was backing away into the clustered street, his head in a daze. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a young boy approach him with chestnut hair and an anxious expression… but he had no time; He had to get the money fast.

Where would one start?

The same place one left off.

Valjean fell helplessly into the same aimless stumble he had succumb to when searching for Cosette. He couldn't help it; everything blended into a powerful unborn scream that was swelling like a wound inside of him, throbbing in a painful panicked fluency. He tried gulping it down but it demanded to be heard, ricocheting around inside his throat, echoing through him. Hot, agitated anger flowed through his body. He needed to think of something.

_Come on, think, think!_

Home.

That's where he kept his money.

He could delude himself he may have just about enough to pay Cosette's ransom.

Turning sharply through streets he tried to navigate himself through the city, swallowing bitter, unhomely and unfamiliar surroundings as he went. Long tall buildings slouched in the cobblestones, lopsided structures that hugged the ground. He was in no state to try and identify them; they all looked the _same!_

Trying to clear the film of clumsy fear from his eyes, Valjean blinked rapidly, steering himself into a different route. Streets merged into familiarity, calming his nerves ever so slightly. He managed to slide his pocket-watch from his waistcoat to check the time: 12.30.

He had until half past two to save Cosette.

And he would.

He had to.

The trek home was torturously long, although he kept walking at a fairly brisk pace. Once he'd slammed through the door he unhooked his coat, leafing through the pockets. Nothing.

Through the worn material he could feel the comforting heft of padding, from the time where he'd stitched notes into his coat. Retrieving a small blade from the kitchen he began messily unpicking the stitches on the yellow ochre material, wrenching the halves apart and emptying the contents onto the carpeted floor. Once he was sure each note had been dislodged from inside the coat he began counting. 8,000 francs.

Valjean sat back on his knees, scattered notes surrounding him. He dragged a hand over his face, sick rising inside of him. He shakily slid his hand into his pocket once more, fumbling with the clasp on his watch. One O'clock.

He hoisted himself to his feet, darting out of the room and into the hallway. There he slammed doors open forcefully, breath choking his throat as he scanned each room.

Nothing.

Heaving himself away from one of the doorframes he shoved himself into the flower-crowded garden, ducking branches as he went. The locket was still lying on the tiled ground, slightly rusted from the rain and flecked with dirt. Valjean scooped it up into his hand. It would feel unforgivably awful to sell anything of Cosette's… and yet in exchange for her life it really was nothing. Throwing his mind backwards into memories, Valjean tried to remember what he had paid for the locket. Not much. Hardly anything. It was pointless.

Quarter past one.

Dragging himself to his feet once more Valjean clasped the locket tightly in his fist, the thin silver chain shivering against his fingers.

You need to run.

Somewhere.

_Anywhere._

You need to do _Something._

Valjean darted back inside, through the hallway and back through the open door, hastily locking it behind him. Breaths still wriggled in his throat, horrible, large and obvious.

He walked briskly down the streets, shoving Cosette's locket into his empty pocket. Walking made him feel better. He devised a plan in his cluttered mind: he'd go back to the Patron-Minette and defend Cosette with his life… even if he didn't have the money, there was no way anything was about to happen to her.

That is if he could _find _his way back.

Streets merged into harsh steel rods, each the same, littered with puddles of water like blotches of ink on paper. It was harder finding his way back; there were so many pauper-houses like the ones Thernardier lived in. His arm ached from wrenching so many cloth doors open, his mouth was stiff from delivering strained apologies to the families he'd revealed huddled in their pathetic homes.

He slipped his pocket-watch from his waistcoat.

Half past One.

A whole hour had drifted past him.

He swallowed down thick spit, shifting his eyes through threads of people. He weaved his way into the next street, turning sharp corners. He had no idea where he was.

Panic played in his stomach. He tried to look for a landmark but found nothing.

It seemed each time he closed his eyes he saw Cosette's neck being corrupted by the blade, her soft white skin sliced with a quick movement of someone's arm, the minute his daughter stops being a person and becomes a body. That would be the moment his world ended.

But that wouldn't happen.

Not whilst he was there.

He didn't seem to be nearing his destination at all; his feet just seemed to slap the pavement repetitively, no movement ushering him this way or that.

Years passed.

Where was he?

He lifted the small brass watch to his face, studying the time. It was almost quarter to two. He was still navigating his way through the streets. He needed to get to Cosette, and fast.

* * *

'So you'll kill her?' Eponine said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. There was the smallest edge to her voice. Claquesous gave her a tiny smile.

'We will, yes.' Panic dawdled momentarily in her eyes.

'And if he comes forward with the money…'

'Well, then we won't need to, will we? Now shut up I'm trying to concentrate.' Claquesous's act of concentration was re-counting the money, having not trusted Babet with the task. Cosette gulped down clumps of high, jagged breaths, squeaking involuntarily every so often.

'You seem scared,' Montparnasse observed. He was standing behind her, holding both of her arms in his. Cosette gave a thrash, trying to tear herself away from him. The boy simply slammed her backwards into the chair so her shoulders collided with the wood, giving her a feeling of unwanted breathlessness.

'Don't try anything,' she attempted to say, the gag wedged back through her lips.

'He won't,' Claquesous muttered, not looking away from his task. Eponine twisted her fingers together, sitting on a mound of upturned furniture. One leg dangled down, the other tucked beneath her. She eyed Cosette with a remorseful and powerful panic, her brow twitching. Thernardier rolled his head backwards, eyeing the clock.

'He's got half an hour,' he announced, the whole sentence coming out as a sigh.

A silence swept over the group before hushed, muttered hums of conversation broke out between the men. Cosette's eyes widened, her heart racing. Montparnasse struggled to force her backwards into a stubborn sitting position.

'You reckon we should tie her up?' he asked. Claquesous shook his head.

'If the police come they'll figure out what's going on,' he muttered, stooping over onto the floor. He picked up a large tarp, throwing it hastily over the bag of money. 'If they do come, bring her to her feet, hold onto her hand and tear that gag away fast as you can.' He turned to Cosette. 'Hear that poppet? Don't even think about running or screaming coz a knife in the back is as deadly as a knife to the throat.' Cosette gave a muffled cry, bunching her terrified eyes together. She slouched over herself, waiting for the inevitable yank backwards into her chair.

Half an hour?

He should be here by now.

Whatever he's done, he should be here by now.

What if he isn't coming?

What if something bad has happened to him?

Cosette could only sob, semi-silently, listening to streams of people shuffle past the door, each time praying it was Papa.

* * *

Half an hour?

Was that all?

Valjean picked up his pace, although he didn't know where he was walking to. He seemed to have lost his train of thought entirely, everything spiraling away from him. How many men were in the room when Cosette there?

Five, including the girl with blood on her shirt.

He could never fight five people, no matter how far the imagination stretched.

Lifting his head from its slouched position he regarded the shop beside him; an up-market jewelry store, one that confirmed he was definitely in the wrong side of town.

He sucked in his breath, watching beautiful jeweled necklaces spiral in the light.

And then, Valjean realized three things all at once.

That Cosette was as good as dead without 600,000 francs on his person.

That the jewelry was extremely valuable and expensive.

And that the glass would be easy to break into.

It was as if his mind had clicked. Desperation seized him. It forced him forwards as he blundered towards the window. _Cosette is dead without 600,000 francs…_

He drew back his fist, his mind in a frightened haze, seizing lungfuls of air.

Jean Valjean wasn't thinking straight. He seemed oblivious to the fact that he was surrounded by people, that the street was full, and that he was robbing in broad daylight. He scrunched his eyes together, gnawing down on his bottom lip. 'Forgive me,' he whispered before his knuckles collided with the glass.

There was an abrupt scream from behind him as the window shattered, people scattering backwards as shards flew through the air and littered the floor. As Valjean turned his eyes widened; huddles of people stood, looks of shock and horror on their faces… but that was the least of his problems. Two policemen were advancing towards him.

His shoulders slumped and he let out a groan, clenching his hands into fists. Blood blossomed on his knuckles… How could he have been so _stupid?_

'Hey!' one of the men barked. Thankfully it wasn't Javert, although of course that didn't matter anymore. Valjean backed away, only to have his arms seized roughly by both men. Soon they were steering him out of the street, away from the shop, away from the people… And Valjean was powerless to stop them. Tears stung in his eyes. Fear and self-hatred danced inside of him, horrible, hollow fear and helplessness. He had failed Cosette, and now, now she would pay the price.

He put up a good fight. He bucked and struggled. He tried wrenching his arms free, but everything he did seemed to work against him. And all the feelings, all the emotions came out as one singular sound. 'No.'

He near-breathed it, the word hitting him like a punch in the chest as he felt his body go limp, his arms falter and his legs buckle from beneath him.

Cosette was going to die.

* * *

The man turned from the small circular face of the clock, his baffled thoughts narrated by horrified silence, heads shifting to face the people around them, searching each other's faces for a sign, for anything… but everyone was as confused as each other. Eponine was frozen, staring rigidly at the clock. It read half past two, painfully clear. Her mouth opened and shut, she was paralyzed, in denial… there had to be some mistake.

Cosette sat with her back straight, her mouth half-open and her eyes wider than wide. No tears leaked from her eyes; this was too big for tears. She could only take horrified, gaspy breaths, shaking her head slightly, as Claquesous drifted into her vision. He was smiling, the knife stretched out in front of him, parallel to his stomach. Babet eyed Montparnasse, who was gripping hold of the girl's shoulder, his fingers trembling slightly as the knife was lifted higher, towards Cosette's throat.

'Time's up pretty girl,' he said in a low voice. 'Looks like Papa blew it…'

**DUN DUN DUNNNNN!**

**Cosette's death… now that would _really _make for an interesting story. **

**Don't worry, I won't kill her.**

**Or will I?**

**Either way how's she gonna get out of this one?**

**(Sigh) I just wanted to say I REALLY hated the bits with Valjean. I was just frozen then, I couldn't seem to write anything good… and I do NOT think Valjean would have stolen, no matter how desperate he was. But yeah, he was pretty desperate. **

**Remember this ALL HAPPENS FOR A RESON *taps nose like an annoying twat* So this stupid sub-plot about Valjean being taken by the police will pay off. **

**But oh GOD, poor Cosette. I feel so sorry for putting her through this, especially as I know what will happen in the next chapter… mwa ha ha! **

**Hope you enjoyed and I'm sorry my writing hasn't been very up to scratch recently. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello again guys… I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while. Everything's been kind of crap lately and it's been quite difficult to just sit down and write with the gigantic-hole-of-horrific-sadness that's kind of… eating me from the inside out... ahem... may be the tiniest exaggeration :/ **

**But I'll spare you the poor-old-me-story and apologize in advance for the many people who I'm sure will ABSOLUTELY GODDAMN ****HATE ****THIS CHAPTER!**

**I'm not gonna lie, the quality of this fic has been spiraling down massively but I'm still tearing my hair out trying to get it right but at the same time I can't argue with the chapter plan. **

**My writing won't please everyone and I'm willing to accept that but PLEASE if you decide to comment would you mind saying how I could improve? That would be lovely!**

**I also hold nothing against the people who dislike this fic… I'm not pretending to be some awesome author who everyone thinks is great, it's just me indulging in my little guilty pleasure ;D**

**So I really hope you enjoy, never mind if you don't, and be truthful if you think this is turning into some badly-written soap opera. *sigh***

The whole room seemed to collapse. Everything in Cosette's mind tumbled into desperation and panic, her breathing quickening in a way that was foreign to her. Her eyes widened as she saw the knife near her throat, her heart hammered in her chest.

There was some air of reluctance as Claquesous pressed the blade into the side of her neck. Cosette gave a fierce, scream-like howl as she felt the knife puncture through her thin sheet of skin. Her mouth opened of its own accord, her heart beating at her chest, drowning her other senses.

Montparnasse suddenly jerked away from her as he saw blood blossom from the wound against her throat. She could hear a muffled swear depart his lips as the room merged into a blur, for the girl could feel her eyes brim with tears.

And then something shattered through her fatigue.

It was the same hot passion she had felt back home, back when Eponine was being beaten before her, the passion that ushered one word like a dart through her mind.

Survive.

All of a sudden Cosette keeled over. Montparnasse had slipped from her, and she felt Claquesous rebound in shock. The knife had dislodged itself from her neck as she took more gasps, chest jerking, shoulders shaking.

What now Cosette?

What's in front of you?

Claquesous.

Within a second she'd hoisted herself to her feet. She took a scattered step backwards, knocking the chair over, before leering forwards.

Come on, you've done this before.

Channeling all her might into it, Cosette rammed up hard against Claquesous, releasing an audible grunt of effort. The man stood tall like concrete, he did not gutter, but he did flicker.

Against the pivot of his body Cosette punched him hard in the side until he moved enough to allow her to pass.

It all happened within a second, leaving the girl to back away hastily. She couldn't get a hold of her breathing still as the Patron-Minette watched wide-eyed.

Claquesous was the first to move.

He ran towards Cosette, knife at the ready, and seized hold of her waist. The girl screamed, scrambling away towards the cloth door, her hands out behind her and her eyes clenched together.

It was at that moment that Eponine sprang to life. Thernardier didn't see her move from her slouched position, jerk upwards and run towards the two. Without a second thought she'd thrown herself onto Claquesous's back, her arms coiled around his neck, and tugged hard. He pulled away from Cosette, his hands flying to his neck as Eponine squeezed tighter. 'GO!' she bellowed at a startled Cosette. The girl scrambled away, her heart in her mouth, seized hold of the cloth door and darted from the small crowded room.

Pulling herself into a standing position Cosette found herself in the bright street, blinking rapidly. All of a sudden she felt hands grip tightly onto her shoulders. She screamed.

'Mademoiselle! It's alright!'

'Marius?!'

'We have to go.'

And before she could protest Cosette was being tugged away from the hovel-like house, her breaths spiraling out of control, tears stinging her eyes like the sharp cut of a knife, clutching Marius tightly like he was the only thing left in the world. Behind her she heard a scuffle, and whipped her head around. The cloth door was yanked upright again, as she saw to her horror that Eponine was rammed up hard against the wall, Claquesous holding a fistful of her filthy hair in one hand, the other driving his knuckles into her face.

'EPONINE!' Cosette managed to cry, guilt crashing through her. The men all seemed to gravitate towards the scene, kicking and scrambling, merging into a stew of limbs.

'Cosette,' Marius said softly, in diverse to how hastily he was roughly tugging her along. The rip in Cosette's skirt gave her legs the liberty to run, the now weathered blue dress less stark than it was.

The two weaved their way through crowds of people, Cosette still shaken, her eyes wide, her breath still strangely out of control. She had no idea if anyone was chasing them, nor did she care, she just had to run with Marius, she just had to move, she just had to do something to off-set the dull throb of guilt swelling inside of her. Marius turned anxiously to face the girl, panting, dragging her sharply past corners and into different streets. 'This way,' he managed to mumble, pulling Cosette closer to him. His mind was filled with so many questions… but he knew that in the place of fright and desperation Cosette was in no fit state to answer them.

Adrenalin thumped through both of them as they darted wildly down side-streets.

Marius suddenly steered Cosette into an alleyway, flattening himself against the wall and breathing heavily. Cosette was soon to follow, her breathing was now reduced to a panicked squeak, shrill and high, as she put a hand to her chest. Her back lay straight against the wall, her head in a daze as she clenched her fists in agitation. Marius still had a tight hold of her wrist. 'Are you alright?' he whispered, trying to make out her silhouette in the darkness of the alley. She nodded pathetically, her head wilting. All of a sudden her hand flew to her neck and she let out a shriek. 'What is it!?'

'My neck it's…' She peeled her hand away. Her heart dropped into her stomach as she identified the darkness of blood on her fingers. 'I… What do I…'

'It's alright,' Marius said calmly, his voice only semi-soothing. He took a step closer, his eyes gently scanning her neck. 'It's not a deep cut,' he whispered. 'You'll be fine… here,' reaching a hand to his pocket he took out his handkerchief and pressed it ever so gently against the cut.

'Thank you,' Cosette managed to say slowly, her heart hammering wildly still. She took a deep, labored breath; she knew panic wouldn't help.

'So they didn't… did they hurt you?'

'Not really. Just a graze or two,' Cosette lied. The wound on her forehead still gave her terrible headaches, her hands were tarnished with work and her whole appearance seemed weathered. Her hands shook as she mopped up the small trickle of blood that had only seeped as far as her collar. 'Suppose I was just scared,' she murmured.

A pause.

Marius gently took his hand away from her wrist, slowly furling his hands into fists. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to comfort her. He wanted to know what to say.

'So what will we do now?' Cosette whispered.

'I'll get you home to your Papa… unless it's better that you hide for a while.'

'Hide?'

'Well they may be able to trace you back to your home.'

'But… would I live with you?' she asked, slightly bewildered at the concept. She blushed. 'I'm sorry, that sounds so rude… I'd hate to barge in on your life or be a burden… especially after all you've done. Thank you, Marius.'

'It was my pleasure,' he said with a tiny smile.

One could marvel at the strangeness of the conversation.

'But… wait, where _is _Papa?' she said, a sudden panic flooding her.

'Pardon?'

'He never came to get me! What if something's happened to him? Oh God!'

'Oh Cosette I'm sure he'll be alright—'

'But he wouldn't have left me… he'd never do that!'

Marius bit his lip.

'And what about Eponine!?'

'What about her?'

'She was in trouble! All those men, they were…' She could feel everything quicken in panic once more.

'Cosette, _please _calm down!'

'I..._can't!'_

'We'll find your Papa I swear! And Eponine will be alright.'

'No… she… _won't!' _Cosette cried, gasping between words.

'We need to get you out of here,' Marius mumbled, pulling her into an awkward, one-armed embrace. Cosette slumped against him, gasping and shivering, needing his firm support.

The two stumbled out into the street, Marius wrapping his arms tighter around her shoulders and walking quickly, as if he were walking for both of them. The day was fading to an indigo-blue already, stars piercing the sky, casting pools of silver onto the cobblestones below. Cosette could not yet appreciate the feeling of freedom, for she was still trapped with her guilt. Eponine had risked herself to help Cosette far too many times, and each time Cosette would strain against the chain and do no more.

She could feel her pulse throbbing now, sending shocks through her body and down her spine. It was same reprised feelings she had felt at the point of desperation, a feeling she was both familiar and bored with. Her legs seemed to fail in supplying any kind of support for her as she clutched Marius's shoulder. It was odd how ready she was to trust him, but the spark she had felt still kindled brightly.

Through a firm block of walking Cosette and Marius had managed to make their way towards the docks. By this time Cosette was struggling to keep her eyes open; there was an overwhelming temptation to rest all of a sudden. The sky was now plunged into darkness, bathing the two of them in shadow. Cosette could open her eyes enough to make out the figures of whores standing against the wall.

_'__Papa, who are those ladies?' Cosette asked, her hand swaying in his. She didn't notice the panic that dawdled in his eyes. _

_'__They're sailor's wives, dear.'_

_'__Why are they all standing there?'_

_'__They're waiting for their husbands to come home,' he lied, glancing at the prostitutes for a split second. It was enough to make him feel a pang of guilt. _

Cosette gave the tiniest whimper, tears prickling in her eyes again. 'It's alright Cosette,' Marius whispered.

_'__It's alright Cosette, Papa's here, it was only a dream.' She could feel his warm voice embrace her as he slowly stroked her hair with the tips of his fingers. _

'Cosette?' Marius said quietly. His voice was so far-away. It was only then that Cosette realized she'd stopped still. She shook her head. No. She couldn't. Not anymore. 'What's the matter? Cosette?'

She stayed swaying uselessly on the spot. Thoughts blasted her. In a semi-conscious bout her legs buckled from beneath her and her body crumbled to the cold slap of the floor.

* * *

Valjean faced the cold white wall. It was all he could do. His hands shook in his lap as he clenched his eyes in guilt.

There was no clock in the holding cell, but he knew he had been there for much longer than half an hour.

But Cosette was still alive.

She _had _to be.

Cosette couldn't be dead.

With every passing second the man grew more agitated; he wanted to launch himself at the bars of the cell and demand to be released, he wanted to talk to someone, _anyone, _so he could at least attempt to explain the situation.

But no-one came.

Behind his fear and shock lay paranoia; every time a guard passed he would flinch, convinced it was Javert.

After an hour of being in the cell he felt like he had endured days of torture. Why was God punishing him so? Was the mere _thought _of Cosette in harm not enough to torture him with?

Valjean repressed a scream, biting down hard on his lip until he could almost taste blood.

**Ha ha, well that was stupid. Sorry.**

**I do still adore writing but I just want to give you guys a good story to read and I haven't really felt like that in a while. **

**In the next chapter I will try to tell the story with a much higher zest. **

**(Again, just sorry.)**


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